


Doors of Fate

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magic, Matchmaking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sloppy Makeouts, Unrelated Striders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10126478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: When Fate speaks, it is not often with a whisper but with a shout. In Dave's case, it shouted that his destined spouse was the boogeyman of a mage who skulked about his village each season, Ambrose, rumored by many to be more monster than man. With that declaration it decided his path and set the wheels of his future into motion in a direction he never could have dreamed of. With magic now invading his life from every angle, the son of a farmer is going to have a lot of adjusting to do if he hopes to figure out why Fate decided to pair him off with such a man, or why the man has such a reputation of being a monster in disguise.





	1. Wedding A Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> With assistance from, and much fun with, : [eighth_chiharu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eighth_chiharu/profile)
> 
> tumblr mirror: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/158052282987/doors-of-fate-ch-1-wedding-a-shadow

     In a world full of magic, some obvious, some subtle, the snow had finally come. First in hopeful cold breezes that left frost on windows in the mornings and along the dying grass of the fields, and now in flurries that were cooling the ground even further in preparation for the first of many thick sheets of ice for the season. Gears were changing as farmers finished the last touches in preparation for Winter to hit their fields full force, villagers prepared their roofs and outside activities began to shift towards indoors one. As ever, though, tradition loomed in the background, ever present.

     Dave had been awaiting this day with apprehension and excitement for years, but since coming of age, it had been a constant in the back of his mind. He and some others who had come of age this season were to meet the matchmaker and find their match, ascend to adulthood and plan their weddings. If no match was found, they would return the next season with hope of a match being found. Fate could be harsh sometimes, but she never lied, nor did the assorted bones, seeds, stone and magic involved in each of the matchmaking readings.

     He was going to find his match today, potentially, and plan for a wedding in Spring. It was thrilling.

     Yes, he'd made eyes in the past at people, some sweet of feature and full of lip, or tall and gangly with a voice that had dropped deep and warm, but nothing serious. It wasn't the way of the village to go much further than flirting before matchmaking could occur, and between tradition, pursuing an education and working the farm with his family? There also just wasn't any time to do these things. None at all.

     Dave would be approaching a future husband or wife with not much to offer in the way of money, but many hard earned skills and a mind tenacious enough to learn more as needed to help make a happy home.

     The small crowd that hustled and bustled merrily to the matchmaker today wasn't large, which meant quicker answers to his questions than if he'd been with any of the Autumn groups that went at the same time. So many products of warm Spring weddings hoping to follow in their parent's footsteps, it was heartwarming really, and just.. so normal. He wondered if any of the people he'd flirted with over time would be his match, tried to picture it in his mind, and just couldn't hold the image for long.

     Why get attached to a thought only to have it shattered so soon after?

     “Hey! Dave, Dave, why don't you go first?” a young man asked, thick of chest and long armed, thwapping Dave between the shoulders fondly as they finally reached the building. There was a pause to brush off their boots of mud outside and clean themselves up for entry, the seer matchmaker not fond of grime in her home.

     “Me?” he asked, leaning against the building to scrub, aiming muck and mud at the ground. “Why would I want to go first? If anyone should be going first, it should be you, your birthday was most recent,” Dave insisted.

     “Oh, no, I'm. ...No,” the youth insisted, shaking his head. “I'm too nervous to go first, I'm a bit afraid to know what's in store for me.”

     “Why did you come at all then?” Dave couldn't help but ask. “Why not wait another few seasons and come then?”

     “Because I'm excited! I'm just.. scared. I don't want a bad match. What if I get someone I hate?”

     Dave shrugged a bit.

     “Fate's complicated, but she knows her matches perfectly. If you're not an ideal match, time will show what Fate saw that you're not seeing.. or you're not ready for a match at all and you'll get told to come back next season.” Same as everyone else, same as tradition. The order was precisely, simple, and aside from a few bad turns in the past, this was just how things were done. Why question what wasn't broken?

     “Yes, I know, but-” the young man started, then shook his head. Instead of Dave, he turned to a woman who'd tagged along for this group, several years older than all of them. “How about you go first? This should be the season, right?” he said hopefully.

     She smiled, nodded, no doubt in her mind.

     “This is the season for me, I can feel it. I -know- I'm really ready now! So much has changed over the years, and this is the first time I can solidly say I'm ready to bring someone home. I know it will happen.”

     One by one, the readings were performed inside. Everyone sat around a warm fireplace on cushions and watched the flames, listened to the crackle, and strained their ears to listen to the next room where readings were performed one at a time. Each time the reading mixture was tossed with its jarring clatter into the large bowl, they'd listen closer and closer to try making out any words. Get hints to the positive or negative.

     The woman who'd decided to go first was matched with a lovely young woman a year older than herself who lived two villages over. She left giddy and abuzz with plans to visit her bride at the same time a messenger bird was sent to alert the other village of the news by way of their own matchmaker.

     Dave's friend was told to wait not just a season, but a year. The matchmaker said, however, that if he felt like coming just in case, to go ahead and come to ask Fate for guidance to a match anyway. Sometimes, the gut feeling to tempt her was more than enough to indicate something had changed and needed to be told.

     So went the morning and into the early afternoon, one by one going back and one by one returning to run outside and cheer or to walk back home or to the inn or the shop and think of many things. Dave was the last one, comfortable and wanting to let his mind wander while it still could, letting those who seemed most eager go ahead of him till finally the matchmaker herself came to the door to usher him into her chamber for his reading. She was a small woman, a hair under five feet easily, but the image she projected for herself was enormous enough to fill the space around him. Dave stood up and dusted himself off, offered a nervous smile as he looked down at her. It was only a head's worth of height between them, but it wasn't nearly enough to make up for the imposing figure she still represented.

     “Come along then. Let's see what Fate has in store for you today, young man,” she said with a nod of her head, turning around and leaving Dave to follow and shut the door behind himself. He sank down on the other side of the matchmaker's table, settling on a cushion similar to the ones by the fire, but much softer. More comforting to sink down into while waiting for some of the most important news of his life. The matchmaker moved slowly and settled down, joints creaking and rattling as much as the cup full of items she quickly lifted next. With a gentle shake of the contents, and a solemn word, she dropped the contents all at once into the bowl and leaned forward to read.

     Dave leaned to try making sense of the shapes as they aligned, some of them moving purposefully, others falling like a simple dropped object. When Fate spoke, magic was always involved to some degree, but this was.. strange. A glance up towards the matchmaker's face, all furrowed brows and quiet darting of eyes, seemed to indicate this might be a bit strange to her too.

     “...Well?” he asked hopefully. “Do I get a match this season?”

     “Give me a moment, child, give me a moment,” she urged. “Let me give another toss.”

     A re-toss? Dave sat back on his heels and watched her tip the contents of the bowl back into the cup, cover the mouth with a small hand to shake everything very well, then tipped it all out once more. Once more, the seeds and bones fell, and some made hard turns a very specific direction, noticeably moving in place during the moving of everything else.

     Dave wet his lips when the matchmaker looked frustrated, throat dry. What was going on..?

     “Would you mind moving this piece here for me?” she asked suddenly, gesturing to the bone that had moved both times, not touching it herself. “Any direction you please. Just lift it up and set it down somewhere else for me. I need to check a few things.”

     Dave lifted the bone, hesitated, then set it down in another location. After another series of requests, he lifted and moved several more pieces, setting them into positions that seemed appealing to him at the time. The matchmaker gave no indication if his choices were good or bad, not wanting to guide him or change options. When the final piece she wanted moved was moved, she lifted her hands and sighed a deep breath, focusing, and waiting for the tug. He was fairly sure most of the hairs on his head stood up for a moment, tingle running up his spine and along the nape of his neck by the time each and every one of the things Dave had finished manually moving not even a minute before had darted back to their precise original position.

     A message was being delivered, and nothing was going to stand in its way.

     The matchmaker wanted to be absolutely certain, though. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. She did a manual reading, checked Dave's palms, asked him questions, and drew up a rather complicated looking diagram with sure, steady strokes in rich black ink. Every reading she performed seemed to be hitting a single direction, and the lack of a waver, the lack of certainty, was concerning.

     “In all my years, I've never seen such a thing.. I suppose there's a first for everything, though. He's sure to be ecstatic.”

     He. Dave straightened up again, stretched his legs a bit harder them drew his knees closer to his chest to hold them in anticipation. A he. Dave was going to have a husband instead of a bride. His mind lit up and danced with options, a few having been wiped out earlier this very day as their matches were made, but plenty still remaining. A husband!

     “Who's sure to be ecstatic? Who will I be celebrating with today?” Dave asked, unable to bear it any longer. “Please, let me know, I can't wait anymore. All those tests were saying the same thing, weren't they?”

     “Yes, yes. They were, which is why I was uncertain at first. I have never seen such a thing in all my years, and I'm not too sure I ever will again. I just don't know how quickly Ambrose will be able to make it to town once I send the bird for him..”

     Dave's heart sank.

     “...Am.. Ambrose?”

     There was only one Ambrose Dave knew, and he prayed it wasn't the same man. The rumors were more than enough without the man himself there to back them up, and everyone was hopeful that eventually he'd stop turning up in town every season. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter Ambrose turned up in the village and made a scene.

     Each season, Ambrose would turn up out of nowhere on horseback and buy most of the items in the store. He would also pick up a number of exotic, strange looking packages that had been mailed there for later pickup by him, none of which anyone dared to open. The man paid with large, valuable foreign coins, and never made more than small talk. Ambrose would get a meal, then go to the matchmaker's home for a reading.

     Each season, he could leave in a silent rage and disappear afterward. Occasionally, he would cause strange happenings to occur around him, bad luck more often than good to anyone in his proximity. Of COURSE he would have rumors surrounding him! He was the boogeyman of the village, living in the edges of shadows. Rumor was that nobody could find his house, nobody knew where he came from. Rumors that he lured beautiful women to inns and stole their skins, or that he ate children, burned farms down just to get the roasted meats and cooked eggs. He was a demon, he was a ghost, he was from another world entirely, far from here in the dark.

     Ambrose was the husband that Fate had decided on for Dave, and he wanted to vomit.

     “Yes, Ambrose,” the matchmaker said, slowly getting up and writing two messages. One, she sent by crow after strapping the little rolled piece of parchment into the leather sling on its skinny leg. The other she burnt, dusting her hands together after adding the item to the flames as if getting rid of something dirty she'd been exposed to, keeping an eye on the hearth as the paper shriveled and then burst into bright orange light. “Now, you'd do best to go get a bag together.”

     “A bag?” Dave asked, numb, dazed. “What do I need a bag for? A bag of what?”

     “Ambrose has been waiting for a long time for a match, young man, no doubt he'll want to come collect you post haste, and we've got a lot to do in that case,” she said, then looked him up and down. “I think you're dressed fine, but maybe try to introduce a comb to your hair, there's no harm in gilding the lily occasionally. Especially in a hayseed area like this,” the woman added with a chuckle, patting him on the back. “Please. Be sure to come back here when you're done, don't dawdle.”

     Dave rose and returned to his home in a haze, not speaking to anyone he passed, mind both racing far too fast and standing perfectly still. His family took the news with mixed reactions. His mother cried, his father had to go for his pipe, but there was an air of acceptance between the hugs and quiet words of grief and fear. Fate had made a decision. Fate was not meant to be trifled with once a decision had been reached, let alone such a solid decision as the one that had picked his spouse earlier, and the compulsion to follow tradition was going to see this through. He wasn't sure how to feel, however, when they did finally start to process things and his bag was packed.

     “It's a sacrifice we need to make, son, for the good of us all,” his father said. “I knew you were born to do great things, but I wish it had been more valor and long life, and not.. this. I'm proud. I just wish it were anyone else.”

     “What do you mean sacrifice?” Dave asked, frowning. “Am I being sent to die, or am I being sent to marry?”

     His mother came to him then, touched his cheeks gently and pulled him down to press their foreheads together for a moment.

     “Not to die, to live. ..To live a long, healthy life far from the reaches of this village, and hopefully to not return.”

     Dave took a step back as he shouldered his bag, dizzy, sure he'd misheard. Today was a lot of ups and downs and strong emotions, his nerves must be interfering with his hearing. That's right, that had to be what was wrong, this made no sense otherwise. He'd just misheard.

     “I'll be coming back though. Even those who marry far away visit home now and then, right? He... He comes by every season for the matchmaker and packages and such, surely he'd still be coming through for the packages and to skulk around even after our being paired off?” Dave asked hopefully, trying to seek any kind of positive feedback.

     “Well,” his mother said softly, “..no, darling. As much as Fate's decided who you're to wed, it's hopefully a sign that he'll stop skulking about our village. He brings bad luck wherever he goes,” she said. “If he was hanging around hoping for a match and finally got it, then he might leave us in peace. Take his curse elsewhere, back to wherever he spends all his time, wherever he lives. Perhaps you'll be able to keep him entertained, distracted. Keep us safe.”

     “Has he actually done anything?” Dave asked, alarm only increasing. His parents basically saying he was loved but that he was charged with an unspoken duty to keep Ambrose away from everyone now was shocking. This was not the plan he had in mind this morning, so hopeful and excited. This was an ever increasing nightmare. “Surely you can't be serious, this is a joke right? Why would you want me to stay away from the village? What if he.. what if he stayed at home, wherever it is, and I come visit? That's fine, right?”

     “It's not fine. Everyone in the village will likely know by nightfall,” his mother said, looking tearful again, but resigned. Fate spoke. Tradition would be upheld, and the strong beliefs that went with it would remain unchanging in the face of what seemed like such a simple choice and answer. “...Honey, I love you, but this is the burden you must bear. Keep us safe. Keep us all safe, and take away this darkness that Fate has linked you to, to the ends of the world if you have to. You'll be the hero you were so sure you wanted to be when you were a little boy.”

     “I'm not a hero! I didn't ask for this!” Dave shouted suddenly, startling his mother and making his father step forward to be sure he didn't explode any further. “I'm not a hero, Mom, I never was one, I was the son of a farmer and I'm supposed to be one now! Fate made a mistake, the reader made a mistake, this isn't right at all!”

     “Stop carrying on like this,” his father tried to reason.

     “Stop carrying on?! I'm being sent away from my own family!”

     “You're getting wed, you'd be leaving the family regardless.”

     “Yes, but I'd have been able to come back! Not... Not be some leper to my own village!”

     “A hero to yo-”

     “STOP CALLING ME A HERO, I'M NOT A DAMNED HERO!” Dave bellowed, mother startling back again, father stepping forward to try forcing him to stand down.

     “Dave, don't shout at your mother,” he warned, voice deadly serious, the severe tone he rarely ever used around his family unless things were dire. “This is happening. I wish it wasn't, but it's happening. ..Depending on where you go, perhaps you can write,” he suggested. “But you must keep that darkness away from us if you can.”

     “You still never told me if he's actually _done_ anything, like the rumors said,” Dave said, quieting down and rubbing at his face when he finally broke and started to cry. Leave it to his father to cut him down from a grown man to a child in the span of a sentence and a half. “Am I being sent off to tame a monster in wedlock, or am I being sent as a sacrifice to some beast that eats the skins of the young?”

     “You've heard the stories,” his mother said, going to take a seat on the edge of Dave's bed for now, needing to calm herself down. “We all have.. Ambrose, the heart stealer. The brother of shadows, the brother of beasts. He's a mage of great power, Dave.. and you'll have his heart in your palm.”

     “Can't I just kill him and come home then?! Is that an option for me?” he asked, sounding more desperate. A mage? Dave knew there was talk of magic, but even his parents were saying he was a mage? What was he supposed to do in the face of that?!

     “No, Dave, that's far too dangerous!” said his mother, eyes wide in terror. Losing her son and having him continue to live was one thing, losing her son and knowing he's died would be far too much to bear.

     “.. It may be a good option. If he doesn't just come right back from the dead and exact revenge,” said Dave's father, drawing up another cold sweat of panic along Dave's spine.

     “Is.. ...Is he a corpse walker?”

     “I've no idea what he's even truly accomplished, who even knows what he's up to when he's not lurking around here, but certainly the man's a shady character. There's rumors of him appearing in other villages, but nobody's ever caught sight of him actually traveling the roads. Nobody knows where his home is for sure.. just that he turns up on horseback each season,” the man explained. “..But that's neither here nor there, son. Consider that option if it seems safe, if not please don't risk yourself. Just keep that man far, far from the village. Keep yourself safe. Write to us, we'll try to find a way to write back to you, just let us know you're doing well as you can.”

     Dave still felt sick when they headed back to the matchmaker in a small cluster, his bag on his back and a decided shake to his knees. This was it. This was going to happen now. Other villagers had indeed heard some kind of news, and were either craning their necks to watch them walk, or whisper while staring as they passed, not approaching but keeping a close eye on what was happening. Who had found out and spread the rumor first, Dave would never know, but it was sobering to realize how other he felt in such a short amount of time.

     The mage arrived within an hour of Dave's return to the matchmaker, to much concerned staring and avoidance by the villagers. Twice in one season? The rumor was true, a match had been made, look to where the demon immediately went when he came to town, something was happening, something was new. The Strider family was losing a son today.

     Ambrose sat tall in the saddle atop a jet black mare, sturdy pace thumping along the ground till he reached the matchmaker's door. Sliding down, his true size was apparent, broad of shoulder and narrow of waist if the right angle looked at beneath the traveling cloak he wore, fine tunic and trousers and boots showing signs of wear and travel, silvery white hair thick and unruly when he pulled the hood back and stretched out a kink in his back. He removed a set of black gloves from his hands and tucked them into a saddlebag of the mate who remained unhitched, obedient enough to stay still with a single command to not wander. Sharp orange eyes glanced as subtly as they could towards the rubberneckers, trying to see if any were related to his business or not, before deeming them unimportant enough to ignore. He was handsome, surprisingly, with sharp features and a strong jaw, thin lips kept trained perfectly flat, expressionless in public, with the fainted hint of shadows beneath his eyes. With a knock to the door, he ducked slightly to get under the frame and enter at last.

     “Madame?” he said in a clear voice, deep and smooth, “I've come to collect my match.”

     Dave's parents sat behind their son within the interior room, just to the side of the bowl that had decided this fate for their child, watching the mage approach quickly, flinching when he bent down in front of Dave and reached for him. Ambrose lifted his hand up, kissed the knuckles chastely, and offered him a charming smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

     “You must be Dave.. I've waited a long time to find you, and here you finally are,” he said softly. “Fate has a fine eye and good taste. My name's Ambrose, and I'm glad we finally get to meet.”

     Mouth opening like a fish, Dave gaped for a moment, not expecting that at all. With the hood down and a smile on his lips, up close Ambrose certainly didn't look like the monster he'd been raised to expect beneath that hood and cloak. Even more, Dave had never had someone kiss his fingers like some noble gentlemen seeking the hand of a maiden in a castle garden, and the strange move was flattering even in his distress. A twisting curve from the left, at the very least.

     “I. ...Yes, I'm Dave,” he finally got out, leaning further back once he realized how close the mage had gotten to his face. Ambrose released his fingers, but remained close to take a seat beside him, forsaking a cushion in favor of folding his legs and sitting on folded feet, boots bending slightly to allow the movement freely. Only then did he reach for Dave's hand once more, sliding thick, warm fingers between his own slim ones, soft skin meeting callous borne in the fields and holding tight as if they were meant to be there forever and had only just realized.

     Dave wondered idly how much magic was touching him just from that little bit. How many spells had left residue on those big hands? How much blood had they seen, if he truly was a monster? Was he really touching flesh, or was this all a disguise? Felt real enough, but then again, it was hard to tell anything anymore.

     The ceremony was simple and quick, as per Ambrose's request. He needed to hurry back home quickly, or at least badly wanted to, and wished to take his new husband home just as fast. Dave's mother continued to softly cry, and his father looked like he was at a funeral as Dave followed instruction to say the proper words and finally feel the sting of a small knife to his fingertip, binding the marriage with blood on a piece of inscribed parchment. Dave was fairly sure he saw the drop from Ambrose shimmer for a moment before sinking into the heavy page, sealing the match that Fate had chosen.

     Almost faster than Dave could wrap his mind around, they were already leaving. His heartbeat was hammering in his chest, but everything felt.. off. Sounds were distorted, the chilly air that was now housing thick flakes of snow again wasn't touching him properly. Temperature, sound, even the pressure of the hug his family clutched him into felt odd, as if he were standing and watching someone perform the actions instead of feeling them himself. Time was going slowly despite nothing actually moving differently. Ambrose took his bag and attached it to the back of his saddle firmly, then pulled his gloves back on and pulled his hood up once more, regaining the appearance of the shadowy mystery that skulked about every season just before reaching for Dave himself.

     Sitting high in the saddle with the mage to his back, Dave couldn't bring himself to twist around in the saddle and watch his home disappear behind them into the falling snow as they slowly headed out towards the woodland path.

     “...How long will this trip take? Before we get to where you live?” Dave asked after nearly a half hour of silence save for the steady noise of the mare's heavy steps and the soft icy song of snowflakes striking things on their way to the ground. “I've no idea where you even live. None of us do. ...Another village?” he guessed, then frowned. “No. Couldn't be, you came so far when the matchmaker sent word.”

     Where the fuck was he hiding a home? Did the man live in a cavern? Up a tree? In some hidden pocket of the world where the demons rested?

     “We're nearly there actually,” Ambrose promised. “Look just ahead, this is where I need to get off for a moment.”

     Dave looked more alert then, staring around in the snow ahead and seeing only a dilapidated remnant of a home that he remembered visiting as a young child with friends, telling stories of ghosts and all kinds of scary things that must have happened there. They'd stopped when they got older, the truth of it just being an old house that had been abandoned to the wilds not nearly as interesting to them as the lost home full of ghostly inhabitants and shadow creatures. Seeing it again, with its soft blanket of ice, was surprising.

     “Uh. There? That little house?” he asked, needing clarification.

     “Yes, that's the one,” Ambrose said as he nudged the mare a bit faster, cutting through the empty garden plot and swooping around to the back edge where a solid wall remained upright. Once they had gotten good and close, Ambrose steadied Dave and told him to keep himself still for a moment before sliding down and dusting the snow off his hood. Removing his glove, he reached into the saddlebag again and took out a wrapped piece of charcoal, a thicker version of the sturdy type Dave had grown up practicing writing with before graduating to pen and ink. Dave watched with confusion as Ambrose approached the bare space, lifted the charcoal, and drew a large rectangle.

     No. Not a rectangle, a door. Dave could make out hinge marks, and a space for placing your fingers to pull the thing open were it real. ..Had he been married off to a madman instead of a mage?

     “..What in the world are you doing?” Dave asked, getting only half the words out properly before they fell limp and quiet from his tongue, eyes going wide as Ambrose sunk his fingers forward into the drawn handle and curled them to get a grip. The wall swung open on its drawn hinges, revealing another snowy place, the flakes thicker and the gathered pile much higher than where they currently were, unfamiliar mountains looming in the background. Dave had heard of magic, seen small spurts here and there, but he never imagined it could do something like this.

     Dave forgot to breathe.

     Taking the reins in hand, Ambrose stepped forward through the new doorway and led the unsurprised mare through to the deeper snowdrifts, Dave wide eyed and more than a little scared, jerking around in the saddle to watch the door close itself once the horse had passed all the way through, leaving no trace of the outline behind.

     Wherever he was now, it sure wasn't anywhere near his village anymore.

     “Is this.. What is this? Are we in another world?”

     “No,” Ambrose said, climbing back up into the saddle behind Dave and nudging the mare on a familiar path. Dave could make out traces in the snow where it had been tramped down at an earlier time and then covered again with fresh flakes, giving an idea of where they'd come from before the doorway to his village's area. “We're in the same world, I promise you. If you'd like to know where we're at.. we're nearly there now.”

     Though not readily apparent at first, the dark outline of a large building began to come into view through the swirling haze of Winter. Dave couldn't judge the size properly yet, but he already knew it dwarfed the home he'd grown up in easily. He also had a feeling it was the only building for quite some distance around if the persistent quiet was any indication.

     “Welcome home, Dave,” Ambrose said warmly from near his ear. “Everything begins from now.”

 


	2. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surely Fate has made a mistake, and Dave's only desire is to free himself from his newly wed beast in disguise as quickly as possible, whether Providence agrees or not. An escape can only go as well as it's planned out, however. In this case, an escape was not planned in the slightest and the effects are far reaching. How far of a reach will Fate have when Dave makes a break for freedom through an unknown wintry night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr mirror: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/158301728782/doors-of-fate-ch-2-snowfall

     The house was tall, expansive without being sprawling, and built from sturdy thick planks of wood. Dave could make out which parts were dark wood and which parts had been painted over and embellished into more aesthetically pleasing designs to suit whatever purpose Ambrose had them there for. Along the edges of the steep tiled roof lay lumps in the snow, hard to identify till they were far closer, and even creepier once Dave finally made out what they were.

     Instead of gargoyles, an outlandish but not unheard of décor choice, this rooftop held dozens of statuettes of birds with the heads and faces of humans. Ambrose noticed Dave's curious stares and informed him that they were his lucky charms, but mostly they just looked interesting. Dave cowered beneath their ever watchful gaze as they headed up closer to the house and turned to reach a barn area around the corner. A second horse rested within in a large, warm, dry stall area and seemed excited for its companion to be back, offering an excited whinny and a quick turn in a circle as Ambrose climbed down from the saddle and helped Dave to the ground as well. Another moment, and he'd unhitched the bag to rest at Dave's feet and pat his shoulder.

     “Would you mind standing still for a moment here? I'll show you inside and give you a tour after I get this tack put up safe and sound, make sure you're comfortable. I've got a room set up for you already.”

     “A room?” Dave asked, hugging his own elbows as he stood still as possible, resisting the urge to run back outside to the snow. That hadn't been anticipated at all. “I thought we were..?”

     “...Were?”

     “Well,” he started awkwardly, “you know. Married?” At least he hoped that was the kind of room being discussed instead of some terrible room that would become his prison.

     Ambrose looked up at him once he got the saddle off the mare's back and grinned in amusement, shaking his head and walking past to set down his burden beside a second saddle. Strangely, the untouched saddle was more fancy looking, bearing elegant whorls in the leather and fine metal decorations upon it. The one in Ambrose's hands, however, looked well worn and simple.

     “We're married, yes, but we've also not spent much time together yet. Even when we eventually share a bed, I'd prefer if you had a room of your own so there is a space in the house that is more for you. We can allocate whichever rooms you need or want, of course. But a bedroom is a special place.”

     It sounded like a fine answer, and were it from anyone else, Dave would have agreed entirely. In this case though, it was from the boogeyman and couldn't be trusted. A special room just for him. It may be a bedroom far as Ambrose said but.. what would it even hold for him? What awful things would happen there? Dave couldn't trust what he was being told, not at all, and the leaps his mind was taking were wild. The look on his face must have been easy to understand, as Ambrose came close after letting the horse through the gate to be with the other mare, reaching out to run the back of his fingers against Dave's cheek.

     “You don't look so well. Are you feeling sick? It was quite cold out on the way here, maybe the temperature changes are hitting finally,” he mused, frowning when Dave flinched back from the touch and wobbled.

     Something was definitely off.

     “N-no, I just-” Dave started, but didn't get much further before Ambrose bent to take up his bag, and scooped him up like a new bride right afterward.

     “Here. Let's get you inside to warm up quickly, then,” Ambrose said, juggling Dave briefly when he arched in sudden panic like a startled cat. “Hey! Hey, relax, I'm not going to drop you,” he promised. “You don't weigh much, and we're just going inside.”

     Dave stopped thrashing when Ambrose started to walk, but his muscles remained firmly locked in preparation to fight as they left the stable through a sturdy door that swung open after the mage jiggled the shiny handle briefly. He relaxed when the warmth of the room hit him, the change solidified by the thunk of the door behind them, and the distinct lack of a lock being turned. Did this man really leave such an extravagant home unlocked when traveling? How far away were they from the next village or city?

     The first room Dave was able to see in the sprawling house was a kitchen, warmed by a fire that crackled and popped happily from within a massive fireplace tucked into the far wall with a hook and slats for cooking with aside from just keeping warm. Angled in its own corner sat a stove with a solid closed oven and a sturdy space to build a fire, closed off for now and chilled. A wood table with the top scrubbed shiny rested to the side with matching hairs, surface cluttered with small jars and covered clay pots, a basket with fresh rolls and a half gone loaf of bread, and a few closed jugs and corked bottles. One wall held an impressive ladle with a scooping portion almost as big as his face, and a few other cooking pans and pots held in place by their handles on nails and hooks. A cabinet held the familiar shapes of dishes, and Dave could see the soft glint of knives and other cutlery on a flat plane of counter top to the side. The remaining space was devoted to drying gourds, flowers, unknown plants, papery garlands of garlic and dried peppers, or intricately woven tapestries against bare wall.

     There was a smell of bacon, of toasted fresh bread, and some bitter background scent he couldn't quite place. Another vegetable? A spice..? Something pickled...? Hard to tell. This was not at all what Dave had been expecting the kitchen of a monster masquerading as a man to look like. Where was all the raw meat and rotten things? The signs of cannibalism, if Ambrose ate the flesh of the young? This was a kitchen you relaxed and ate soup in with your family, what in the world was it doing HERE of all places?

     The weight of standing caught Dave for a moment as Ambrose drew further into the room and sat Dave near the fireplace, turning to snag a chair for him in offer.

     “Here. Feel free to have a seat and rest, get good and warm. I remembered I needed to get one last thing ready for your room, it shouldn't take but a little while. I'll take your bag up for you as well.”

     “My room?” Dave asked blankly, taking the offered chair and sitting since it seemed to be expected of him now. “Oh. Right. Yes. My room.”

     This was where the fabrication fell apart, wasn't it, Dave assumed. He'd been lured into the kitchen, full of knives and blunt objects and a large fireplace, and was going to die here. If not right in this room, then in that mysterious room Ambrose had promised was his and his alone that now supposedly needed some finishing touches. Dave had grown up sleeping in the same room as the rest of his family, what finishing touches could there even be? Did the mattress need to be sewn shut still? Were there messes to tidy from whoever else had been last devoured, or some kind of magic spell to cast now that Dave was in range?

     Would he ever get to leave and go home, marriage or no marriage? There had to be some kind of allowances for this somewhere, some way to be accepted back home. Somehow. It was selfish to want this, it was terrible to complain about Fate, but Dave wanted it so badly his heart ached. He wanted to go home even if home didn't want him there anymore. Maybe he could kill the mage, catch him by surprise with one of the shiny knives in this very kitchen-

     Dave's thoughts were cut short when Ambrose leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek, then stroked his hair back.

     “Feel free to have some bread if you'd like. There's cheese there as well. Please keep out of the larger jars though, there's some good things fermenting in there that need to not be disturbed, but otherwise you've got full range of the kitchen. It's nearly dinnertime but I'll need some time to cook for you,” Ambrose said. “I'll be back soon.”

     The stark, anxious stare Dave gave Ambrose as he pulled back and left the room with his bag was palpable. So too was the hurried look around the room he gave before he could really remember to take a deep breath. This was it. He was leaving, then coming back to fatten him up like the witch from that story with the candy house, but instead of a house of candy it was a stately wooden home full of danger and mystery that smelled like a memory of his mother's kitchen on a chill morning. The end was coming soon as that man came back out for him.. but oh was it cozy in here in the meantime. The fire was warm and inviting, the smells promised good food and drink and relaxation that Dave would be fully indulging in were he not convinced the end was nigh.

     Dave stared at the door Ambrose walked through, mostly closed, impossible to see around from this angle, and wondered how far away he'd walked. Far enough away that Dave couldn't hear his footsteps on the floor, didn't hear any creaking of stairs any longer. Was he watching from some hidden pocket, waiting for him to move? To run? To come for him with a knife?

     A knife. A knife was a good idea actually. Glancing to where he'd spotted the cutlery before, Dave held his breath and stood upright from the table, darting over to snag a knife for arm himself with. Something small but plenty functional, maybe something he could hide in his clothes. If he couldn't stab the mage to keep him from eating him or hurting him, maybe there would be a chance to catch him sleeping and secure his return home. No. He couldn't stay here, not longer than he had to. Not while there were options now. That door that disappeared was still a big problem, but surely there would be another way out to a village from here. Pick a direction, find a path, and get going. Escape while the anxiety and adrenaline was coursing through his veins, urging the spontaneous action to happen as fast as possible before regret could set in.

     Fate made a mistake. Fate wouldn't separate Dave from his family, or leave him alone with someone that scared him and probably just wanted to eat him, or do any of this. He was supposed to marry someone from his village or the surrounding area, make a home that would keep them safe, wed in the spring and live out his days in bliss. What kind of a fucking joke was this? Surely Ambrose had just cast some kind of dark magic on the pieces the matchmaker read, made them twist and turn however he wanted. There was nothing holding him here. Nothing at all.

     Dave selected a shining knife that looked and felt plenty sharp, slipped it into a laundered napkin and covered the edges securely, and slipped it into his pocket. Another heavy breath as his heart started to hammer and fuel his bravery. A plan was forming, and Dave wasn't going to wait for his mind to catch up and make him second guess himself. Without checking to see if Ambrose was too near, Dave ran for the door to the stable and yanked open the gate. The mare they'd rode here regarded him with interest, and didn't fuss when he slipped the bridle and reins on. She did seem confused when Dave slipped onto her back without putting the saddle on, or even a blanket, and nudged her to hurry out the door into the snow once more.

     Ambrose watched from upstairs as Dave and the mare raced out into the storm, paused, then whipped to the left and took off towards the forest. There was no point in trying to stop whatever was to happen, but at least he knew which direction to go in and find him later. Giving his new spouse the freedom to make the choices he did was telling him more about Dave's personality than anything else could have. He hadn't waited in fear, he saw an opening and took it. He took the horse, but made the choice to spend an extra minute ensuring he had some more control over the mount. He went left instead of right or towards the empty space their door had been upon arrival.

     Dave was a brave, stubborn man who took initiative to help himself. Dave was also terrible at choosing directions, apparently, as those woods were terribly thick and the path devolved to deer trails and the shadows of fallen trunks the further in you went. Not that he would have had any way to know that ahead of time.. but still. There was no harm in letting him go and run, at least for now. Ambrose knew he could find him and bring him back safe even if the storm turned to a whiteout like he felt it probably would.

     After he finished making up the soft, large bed with fresh linens in Dave's new room, Ambrose went to get some water heating in the large tub, wanting to give plenty of time to let it warm on its own. He set out a large fluffy towel, and sorted out a nightshirt for Dave to wear after bathing. He made sure to remember where the bed warmer was for warding off the chilly sheets later, and collected an extra cloak from the front hall before heading outside finally. Dave should be easy to track, but determination and the unknown could make for many messes. Wouldn't want to try his luck.

 

\- - - - - -

 

     “Come ON damn it all, move!” Dave cursed. “Please, just move, I know it looks too close but it's not! There's plenty of room to carry on through there!”

     The path was more deer trail than traveled road, and it had wound deeper and deeper into ever thickening brush and trees. The snow was so thick he could barely see where he'd come from, and kept pushing forward solely because the dim outlines of trees were more noticeable in the blinding white. He knew the sun was already beginning to set, that night would be upon him soon, and that so far there was no sign of any other source of help. No woodsmen, no farmers, no hunters.. just Dave, the mare, the occasional small animal or doe, and the heavy flakes weighing them down.

     Every few steps now, the mare was beginning to hesitate. She wanted to go home where it was warm and dry and safe, not stay out here in the cold in the middle of nowhere. Another low bush scraped against her sturdy legs and she'd begun to finally have enough from this strange little human trying to tell her what to do. When the mare finally stopped moving, Dave sat up straighter and tried to get her to going again, hands cold and nearly numb on the reins.

     “Will you just move?!” Dave begged, only now realizing more and more how much he'd begun shivering. This was bad. This was very, very bad. The mare tossed her head and dug in her determination not to move, starting to back up so she could turn around and make her way back home once more. Dave panicked and yanked the reins in a last moment plea to keep her going the right way, only to become airborne moments later, regretting the fact he was more used to cattle than horses. He screamed and tried to tuck and roll, slamming down in a snowdrift and the log hidden beneath it with his hip hard enough that Dave knew he'd be wearing a good sized bruise while being ever thankful that it hadn't broken his bone.

     The mare didn't run once he was off, choosing instead to trot a short distance back and turn to stare at him with her ears back, waiting to see if he'd get back up or not. When Dave groaned and slowly sat upright, then stood, she finally left him in favor of returning home. Good, the little human wasn't dead and wasn't trying to yank her anywhere else, not her problem anymore.

     “Come back!” Dave cried, starting off after her before wincing and slowing after a few steps due to the pain from his fall, as the sound made her speed up till she was out of sight. Shivering and pained, Dave rubbed his own arms and looked at the path the mare had taken before looking the way he'd hoped to continue going. If he walked back, there was at least a surefire way to return to that large house and the mage within it. Maybe there was another way to go about this, to make him free him from this marriage, make him admit he forced the reading in his favor, demand to know why it had to be him instead of someone else.

     Down side? Going back was the last thing Dave wanted to do. With the choice he'd made earlier sitting even heavier in his stomach, and the sun going down, Dave turned to the unexplored direction and made himself walk. He'd either find humans or shelter, or the snow would take matters into its own frigid hands.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

     Ambrose was surprised with how far Dave had made it alone by the time he found him. The mare had crossed his path and continued on towards home, knowing the door to her shed would be open for her there and with it the delicious food inside. His own mount had begun to shy at the thinner path as well, but was more trusting of following Ambrose's lead, especially once he called forth a ball of light to illuminate their path and the nearly hidden footprints Dave had left behind before laying down.

     It was deadly, this weather. The colder someone got, the more tired they felt, till they eventually gave in and laid down for it to claim them after all. Were he anywhere else, were Ambrose anyone else, Dave would surely have been left to die on his own in the forest. Instead, he was discovered in a silent, still heap partly obscured by wet powder that clung to the pale strands of his hair and stuck to his eyelashes in frosty clumps. Dave didn't resist when Ambrose left the light hanging midair and bent to lift him up like a bride, dusting him off and then wrapping him tight in the second cloak that he'd brought along. He barely cracked his eyes open when they were leaving the closed in trunks of the forest depths, nor when they wound up riding high on the horse's blanketed back with the light drifting gently along in front of the mare's path, leading them back home.

     How many more times would this happen, Ambrose wondered. Would Dave be running more in the future? The choices he made were telling, but it did make the mage worry. If Dave left in the middle of the night, would he be able to find him in time again? What if he got hurt? What if he sprung an attack prior to leaving, left Ambrose struggling to catch up and help him? They were miles and miles from the nearest settlement, with rough terrain all around, impassable solely by horse and not recommended to be tackled on foot without a solid guide and directions from someone who knew the way for sure.

     The horse stood still and patient when they got home, waiting for the blanket and bit to be removed before leaving Ambrose's side with the promise of treats later. Once back in the kitchen with his now shivering and a bit more conscious spouse in arm, Ambrose wasted no time to remove boots or cloaks at the door. He'd deal with mud and water later. Getting Dave warm, dressed, and resting was far more important right now.

     Dave was set to rest on the floor briefly as Ambrose filled the tub with hot water, reaching for bottles to pour different oils and herbs inside, making the water fragrant and inviting. That should hopefully help warm him and ward off the worst of the sickness that may come for him, it certainly helped when he needed the treatment himself. With Dave starting to mumble and try to get his own boots off with awkward, fumbling movements, the mage crouched down and not only took them from him, but went through the motions of stripping him bare on his own. Though he'd waited years for his match to come to him, waited years to see him, this was not a time to appreciate how beautifully formed Dave was. This was a time to be sure his new love was alright, and that he would survive to reach that long awaited time in one piece on his own time.

     There were no signs of frostbite to his slim fingers, thank whatever holy thing that was watching over them, nor any problems with his toes. It was a close call though, judging from how much Dave suddenly fussed and cried out when his body hit the warm water and the properly heated blood returned to the digits in a painful rush. Good. No damage at all there, then, they'd gotten lucky. Ambrose continued to gently lower Dave into the water, holding beneath his arms with his broad fingers splayed on his chest to make the hold more stable, not releasing him till he could lean backwards against the angled tub wall and not immediately slide down and drown. Petals from some kind of flower danced in front of Dave's vision on the surface of the water, red and bright as his eyes, pleasantly sweet along with the oils.

     At least till his nose went runny and Dave lost some of that smelling ability with a hard snuffle.

     “You're very lucky Dave,” Ambrose murmured, picking up his wet clothes with the intention of taking them somewhere to dry out and probably be washed as well if needed. “Try not to drown for a moment and enjoy your soak. I'm leaving the room for a minute, but I'll be right back.”

     Sure enough, after a bit of sorting and jostling, in Ambrose's hand was the knife Dave had chosen. ..Fascinating, really. Not only had he ran off, picked a horse, and made a valiant attempt to escape on his own without raising alarms or making much of any kind of sound, he had armed himself. Not with just any random knife, either, the one Dave had selected was one of Ambrose's favorite kitchen knives! There was no damage to it thankfully, but the subtle coincidences were starting to stack up in amusing ways. Fate really did find him a match that was close.

     Though he took a moment to prepare the bed warmer and slip it into the sheets of Dave's bed, by the time he returned to the tub, Dave was still awake but exhausted looking. He'd been mid-attempt at eating one of the floating bits of flower petal, trying to spit the bitter taste out of his mouth before realizing his company was back and sinking down till his nose was just above water level. Dave's hands crossed over his abdomen and his knees drew up to protect himself, cautious about being so vulnerable now that he was aware of what was happening.

     The knife. Ambrose had to have seen the knife. Ambrose took the clothes he took the knife, he HAD to know what Dave had been planning, HAD to know what was going through his mind. There was no way he could have known when he'd come and found him somehow in the snow, but there was no hiding it here.

     “Marinating me?” Dave asked, suspicious and unable to hide the waver to his tone.

     Ambrose blinked and stared at him for a moment, hair wet and hanging just over his gemlike eyes so they glittered like a cat peeking out from beneath a bed skirt, ready to swat at passing ankles. He stared.. then snorted and began to laugh out loud in amusement, shaking his head as he fetched a scrub cloth and a cake of greenish soap.

     “If I were marinating anyone, it wouldn't be in a tub full of flowers and oils, Dave. I'm not interested in marinating you, cooking you, or any other awful thing the rumors about me might have prepared you for. I know you're not interested in believing that right now, but I'll say it as many times as it takes to stick.”

     “So you DO marinate people?” Dave asked, eyes narrowing as Ambrose came closer and rolled his sleeves up. He hesitated, but didn't fight as the mage lifted his arm up to gently scrub and wash him with the cloth after wetting and soaping it up. Dave was surprised by how heavy his limbs felt, and wasn't sure if it was from the failed escape attempt, or from something that had been added to the water prior to his getting into it.

     “I marinate many things, but none of them are capable of holding a conversation with me,” Ambrose said, voice calm but tone hinting at teasing. Dave was being silly with all this, they'd surely look back fondly and laugh at these thoughts and laugh someday. He couldn't really resist engaging, not when they'd still spoken so little about anything else in the world. “The oils will help you a good deal, so soaking will help, but you're not marinating for cooking.”

     Ambrose talked when Dave didn't prove interested in changing topics, filling the silence with his warm, even voice as he continued to wash Dave down. There was no funny business, every movement of the cloth was with a direction and goal in mind, though he did take his time along Dave's slim back and shoulders, the sides of his hips and his slender legs. More delicate areas weren't for him yet, and Dave tended to himself as he saw fit. It wasn't as if this would be the only chance to ever clean himself again, and his energy was low as it was. Ambrose described how heavy the snow was later in the season, but how lovely the spring was. Described in detail some of the flowering plants he tended for magical purposes, and local animals that liked to stick around the house when it was warmer.

     Dave himself continued to relax more and more, nose remaining stuffed and body harder to move purposefully. He asked a few quiet questions, but didn't seem too focused on the answers or the pictures Ambrose was painting for him with his words. In the course of however long he'd been in the tub, Dave had gone from half frozen feeling to warm, then to the far end into what he was pretty sure was a fever or being in the hot water too long. Everything felt slow and hazy, but he didn't feel like sleeping till Ambrose decided he'd washed Dave down thoroughly enough and got him plenty toasty.

     With the same sturdy grip beneath Dave's arms, Ambrose lifted him and had him rest on the edge of the tub, skin bright pink and steaming in the slightly chill air till he could get a thick, soft towel over him. A quick dry, and a dressing in the night clothes he'd set aside earlier, and Dave was once again in his arms. For the third time now, Dave didn't resist being carried in the slightest, instead letting his head loll to the side to rest against Ambrose's arm and chest as he welcomed the cooler air on his overly heated skin.

     With any luck now, Dave wouldn't get a second brush with death. A brush with being very tired and sleeping through the night like a brick? Yes. Hopefully. After slipping Dave into his bed, Ambrose moved the bed warmer to a better spot and pulled the blankets up beneath his spouse's chin, sitting beside him to stroke his hair back slow and steady. The mattress was softer than anything Dave had ever slept on before, used to straw packed mattresses for the most part, with extra blankets up top. Surely this was filled with down, soft feathers packed heavy in place, but giving enough to cradle his body like a cloud.

     “...S'this a fever..? Or from the bath?” Dave asked quietly, words slightly slurred from his fatigue.

     “Bit of column A, bit of column B most likely. Being too cold can make being warm feel too warm for a while, and some of those herbs might have been a tad more potent than I'd anticipated.” Dave was a lot smaller than himself, and while he assumed the amounts were right, the margin for error was there. He was only human, after all. Warmer might be a bit TOO warm.. but at least Dave wouldn't freeze to death, and a fever was easy to break, especially if you were the one who personally caused it. Whoops.

     “Really..? Make's sense,” Dave mumbled, focusing on the ceiling before looking around him, taking in the space. “This my room?” he asked, as if just now realizing where he likely was.

     “Mhmm.” Ambrose continued the gentle petting motions, trying to gauge how warm Dave really was right then as opposed to residual heat from the water. “The quilt matches your eyes, in my opinion, but we can always get you other furnishings,” he promised.”I'll do my best to supply whatever you'd like now that you're finally here.”

     From the shelves with sparse decoration, to the sturdy looking table and chair, to the fine mirror and dresser drawers all in the same satiny pale wood, there was certainly room to grow in this space. For someone who had never had a room all to himself before, this was definitely an appealing prospect., and Dave nodded along in understanding and apparent approval before slowly stopping.

     “Dave?” Ambrose asked softly, a bit worried, unable to tell for certain if he'd just gone to sleep, or if he'd given in to the warmth that was persisting. “...Damn it. I guess maybe that -was- a bit too much fire fern. Twice a nitwit,” he muttered to himself when Dave remained ruddy faced and asleep.

     Enveloped by deep sleep, Dave didn't dream his usual dreams of travel and adventure that night. Instead, he dreamt of strange things. Dave's mind showed him pictures of birds, of doorways filled with light and darkness, of feathers coated in jet black slime. He saw the moon and stars flaring bright, fire in many colors, and finally the cool waves of what he assumed must be an ocean.

     There was no way he could know that Ambrose stayed up warding off the fever he'd inadvertently caused, nor that he could know the ocean's appearance was the harbinger of the fever's much needed end.

 


	3. Rising Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be it a musical breakfast or learning the ins and outs his new home as the snow outside envelopes the outside world, Dave is coming to realize precisely what it means to be married to a magic user. From flying honey to a house and a half of books and preserved creatures in jars, there doesn't seem to be a halt in the fountain of new things to explore and experience. Why is it, then, that a simple ball of light is what will likely change both of their lives forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr mirror: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/161064354792/doors-of-fate-ch-3-rising-light

     Dave woke the next morning as if surfacing from some deep pool, groggy and weightless as he stared at the ceiling. It took a few minutes to remember that he had a body, much less how to actually use it. His hands and feet tingled, and the blankets were extremely warm compared to the cool air that cradled his face, but nothing felt unpleasant or stifling. He slowly sat upright and stared at the blanket for a moment, rubbing his fingertips along it before reaching down to his nightshirt and pulling it out a bit to glance down at his own chest in the silvery light that was streaming in through the windows with their parted curtains.

     The material was soft and fine, comfortable, and far more luxurious than anything he was used to experiencing. No signs of any strange marks or brands, no sudden collars or anything else of the sort. No pains.. So far, there were no signs of any nefarious happenings from his new spouse while he was sleeping, which was more surprising than he wanted to admit. He expected Ambrose to be a beast at the first opportunity, and yet he'd been so thorough in warming him up and putting him to bed.. there had to be something sinister lurking behind those bright eyes of his.

     Dave groggily glanced around his room once more before rubbing his eyes with his forearm, wiping away the sleep enough to finally realize there was a delightful scent in the air. Something sweet, but also the alluring aroma of fresh bread, the smoke reach of bacon.. Breakfast. Such a familiar scent of breakfast. The door was cracked open to the hall, presumably to let him call out if he needed anything, or perhaps just to wake him when the food started cooking, similar to how his mother would start baking early in the mornings and wake him that way instead of coming to prod him half the time.

     .. Was any of this real? Maybe the marriage and all the snow was a dream, and he was only now on the verge of waking up back home. Or he was still deeply asleep, perhaps. If he walked outside now, it would be to his mother cooking and the pet cat being three times his size, the sky would be green and the grass would be the clearest blue he'd ever seen. Dave swung his feet out from under the blanket and pushed himself off the cushy bedding to stand upright.

     Nope, definitely awake. The chill of the floor was enough to make Dave's flesh crawl and a shiver race down his spine. There were no cold floors in dreams, it would be criminal if there was, which meant..

     ..What was that man up to.

     Creeping along as stealthily as a young man could in a set of nightclothes in an unfamiliar place, Dave wandered along a richly decorated hallway and crept down a set of stairs, following the alluring scents in the air till they were joined by the familiar sounds of crackling and sizzling food and fire. He expected to see, at most, breakfast. His mistake of course was expecting something so simple in the house of a magic user.

     Ambrose was wielding a frying pan and a spatula, and seemed to be intensely focused on whatever he was working with, and somehow managed to be the most normal thing in his range of vision. Things were moving. Jars, bottles, bowls, all were steadily moving in time to some unheard rhythm to either return to their original spots or to come add something somewhere and then return. When the mage leaves the pan alone, it continues to gently lift and jiggle to avoid burning the bacon he had been so carefully tending, spreading grease around and making each surface cook evenly without curling up too much. Another pan got the contents of a bowl added to it, bubbling and hissing gently as it started to cook. Ambrose hums softly in time with the moving items then, a song Dave feels like he's heard before, but can't quite place.

     Why did it sound so familiar. Perhaps it was a song he'd heard when he was younger, or something from his region at least. He may not have traveled, but this man obviously had and made regular visits to his village, that must be why it was familiar.

     Ambrose crossed the kitchen to the table to set out cups and saucers, a teapot, and then two smaller mugs alongside it. Without a comment, he lifted his sharp eyes precisely to where Dave was standing silhouetted in the doorway and grinned before he turned to go back into the swing of cooking, checking on the progress of all the automated food. Dave froze like a deer in a hunter's sight and stared at his back as it retreated, fascinated.

     There was literal magic in the air, and yet Dave couldn't help but focus on how different the mage looked today. He looks calmer, lighter, happier. He was wearing brightly stitched slippers and loose trousers, a baggy tunic and a shawl that looked like intricate shimmering whorls of sunset around his shoulders to ward off the chill, hair tousled and looking quite slept on. There was no glamour at work, no predatory sense to that grin. He seemed.. happy. Like a child playing with a shiny new toy instead of simply a grown man making food.

     “..You really are a mage of great power,” Dave finally managed softly, watching an onion rise from across the room and bob in time with Ambrose's humming as it made its way to the chopping block to be sliced by a similarly moving knife. The diced pieces went to join the bacon in the pan, hissing and sizzling wildly as it began to cook in the grease, perfuming the air even further.

     “You say that as if it's surprising,” Ambrose said before gesturing with his spatula. “Have a seat, Dave, near one of the plates if you would.”

     Obediently listening to both his new husband and the snarl of his own stomach, Dave takes a prompt seat and swings his legs idly to let his toes drag across the warmer floor, watching the bewitched utensils and pans and seasonings slowly finish their missions and come to a halt where they needed to be at last. Eventually, Ambrose came over to dish up eggs, crisp bacon and onions, and fluffy breakfast cakes onto both of their plates, only enhancing Dave's gaping fish imitation. When the food was served, he returned the last pan to the stove and pointedly finished up his song, urging all the items in the kitchen to find their proper homes on their own with a series of soft clinks and thumps.

     He poured hot water into the teapot and dropped in a sachet that smelled sweet and spicy the second it hit the water, intending for it to steep for a time. Dave's fascinated, because that certainly doesn't smell like the teas he's experienced at home, all lemon balm and mint and dried fruits or bits of other herbs and flowers. He stiffens however when Ambrose went away with the kettle and came back with a knife in hand, along with some kind of dark colored block. He turns it like a piece of strange wood and shaves pieces of the block into both of the mugs before leaving once more to pick up a small pot from the back of the stove. Dave can tell in an instant that it's hot milk, creamy and rich and fresh, but his heart sinks as it's poured into the mugs with the weird shavings, and he feels a bit sick as it quickly turns to a murky brown color.

     What a waste.

     When Ambrose sat down finally and adjusted his shawl, he gestured at Dave's plate with a broad hand. “So, which do you prefer? Honey or syrup? Or are you more of a preserves or molasses person? Perhaps a flavored syrup instead, or clotted cream..”

     Dave stared for a moment, caught between wanting to dive onto his plate and devour every inch of it as it was and wanting to see what else this man had on offer. He looked around, then realized there were several small jugs and jars on the tabletop, all of which were stoppered firmly or covered with a lid. Each was different in design or shape, different colors of paint, so there was no need to label the mystery contents within.

     “...Honey,” he said after a second of thought. Was it meant to go on the cakes or in the drink? You couldn't go wrong with honey, right? It was perfect in every way. Ambrose nodded in understanding and reaches for a brownish jug for himself, pulling the stopper out and pouring a thick amber colored syrup onto his own cakes, while a blue jar moved itself out of the group and hopped carefully to Dave's plate to await use. Cautious, he opened it and sniffed the contents. ..Yes, that's definitely honey, golden, sweet and familiar. He was fairly sure there was a comb in there as well actually, texture visible to one side within.

     The burning question that remained however was if it was safe to eat. Was any of this safe? Things seemed so nice right now, if not exactly normal, what if it was some kind of a trap. Dave's stomach twisted uncomfortably as he remembered his mad dash for freedom the day prior. What if there was something hidden in there that woul-

     Ambrose reached over and took the jar, tipped it to pour some of its contents on his fingertip, and popped it into his mouth before returning the jar to Dave's hand.

     “It's safe,” he said, already knowing what had to have been running through his spouse's mind to drag such a worried look across his features. Dave's face reddened, but he nodded and mumbled a thank you as he added some of the honey to his breakfast cakes. Ambrose removed the steeping sachet from the teapot and poured the liquid, red and aromatic, into the waiting tea cups as if nothing in the world were wrong. How could he seem so nonplussed despite what had just happened? No comment? Nothing? Not a word about how his husband was STILL worried about potentially being poisoned, just moving right on to pouring tea? Dave wasn't sure how the hell he was going to survive this marriage even if Ambrose never did anything to him; he would be capable of embarrassing himself to an early grave all on his own power at top speed. Fate was either stupider than he thought it was now, or it had unattainably high hopes for him.

     Now that the syrups and tea had been dealt with, Ambrose stirred the muddy looking mugs with a spoon and lifted his own to his lips to sample, nodding happily at the flavor he'd managed to achieve. Proper measurement this time, not weak at all, perfect. Dave didn't look pleased at all. Rather, he twisted his face as anyone would while observing someone drink mud, lip curling back in disgust and brows furrowing. ..Eugh. What was even the appeal there..?

     Avoiding the mug entirely, Dave went for his tea instead, taking a cautious sip after a few cooling puffs of air were delivered, and letting the liquid wash over his tongue. Berries, fruits, bitter and sweet mixing together with spices that felt like he was pulling on a warm blanket instead of just drinking something. He actually sighed and closed his eyes for the next few sips, just taking in the entire experience as it washed over him. Dave startled when he realized that Ambrose is watching him with those piercing eyes, lips curled in amusement.

     “What?” Dave asked immediately, frowning, making a point of looking Ambrose up and down, wondering if he could make him look anything but perfectly calm and collected.

     “I was just appreciating how attractive you look in the mornings,” he said, glancing down to get his fork, cutting through a cake and dabbing at the syrup with it before popping a bite's worth into his mouth. “I was also appreciating the fact you woke up when you did. These things are easy to make, but it's a bit more complex to keep them warn without risking everything becoming dried out or chewy.”

     So it was going to be like that, was it? Dave sets his jaw and looks at his plate, devoting all of his focus on his food instead of sparing any looks towards the mage, wanting to get his meal down and possibly savor the taste while it was fresh. This was quite a spread, to the point it felt like a holiday, but from how normal this seemed to Ambrose it looked like this was probably what Dave was going to be having on offer at any time.

     A place with such diverse food readily on hand.. and now he LIVED here. Perhaps not all was sorrow and doom and gloom after all: there were breakfast cakes.

     Ambrose gently tapped at his own mug to make a sound before lifting it to his lips.

     “You're missing out, you know. This is a drink much better enjoyed while it's hot.”

     “No thank you,” Dave said immediately, slicing his egg so spread the yolk. “You can have it all, since you seem to like drinking it.”

     “..Do you not like things like this, then?” he asked, lifting his mug up and quirking a brow.

     “Aside from you, I've never met anyone who enjoyed drinking mud. Of course I don't like it, are you mad?” Dave asked, exasperated by this point. Ambrose HAD to be pulling his leg now, there was just no other way.

     “It's chocolate. Have you really never had chocolate before?” the mage realized, startled. It was such a common treat for him and so normal in his life that it was baffling to think that this would be a first. Not the rare riches and shiny goods from afar.. but a simple bit of chocolate. He rose to his feet and went to get the knife and block again, shaving a little but off and setting it near Dave's plate. “It's... well. It's a sweet treat. The mug is just melted chocolate mixed with milk, it's very nice.”

     Dave frowned at the dark shavings like strange, papery wood, and at the mug cautiously. He made an uncertain sound but reached for his own mug to take a cautious sip, wondering if perhaps this would get the mage off his back. If it was disgusting then he could have his laugh and be over it, and Dave had enough bacon left to wash away the flavor with something he was damn well certain he liked.. and just in case this man who could make his entire kitchen come alive and dance over at top speed to stab him to death decided he was angry.

     The sip paused and held for a moment, and soon gave way to a heady slurp once the sweet taste hit him and really sank in. Amazing.. Amazing! This was absolutely amazing, how had he never heard of this before!

     “Oh, this is so good..!” Dave said before he could even think of a better way to say it, though he was so pleased he didn't care that Ambrose chuckled at him and rose from the table once more.

     “I'll remember that you enjoy it, then, and I'll be sure to give you other chocolate treats in the future. I really enjoy fudge and cakes, or having it over toffee, myself,” the mage said as he walked to the counters and rustled around for a moment or two. Dave didn't look up from draining his mug of every last drop of the chocolatey drink till he heard a metallic clink on the tabletop, and even then he wished he hadn't looked at all.

     The knife.

     The fucking knife he'd stolen and taken with him out into the snow. Of course Ambrose had it, of course he'd found it at some point during or after he'd been dragged back here. The color drained from Dave's face till he looked ashen, bloodless and shaking as he tried to wet his lips cautiously. Why was his throat so dry now, he couldn't breathe, his chest was tight and the room was trying to spin sickly around him.

     “I-. ...I was. That's...”

     Shit. Shit, shitshitsHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT. It was over, it was all over, this was it. Ambrose had sweetened him up and lowered his guard and now it was time to go in for the kill, it was all over! Fate be damned, this was the end!

     “You forgot this, by the way,” Ambrose said. “It didn't get rusty from just that bit of snow, but I'd be careful with it if I were you, you snagged one of my favorites for yourself. I've washed and sharpened it for you, and if you're very attached I can make a sheathe of some kind for you.” Dave cringed when the mage smiled, trying to make himself even smaller in his seat. “I'll leave it with you now, though, I didn't want it to get caught up in the dishes by mistake.”

     He didn't sit again or linger, instead heading to the center of the kitchen and starting up a steady hum as he had while cooking, gesturing to the propped up tub till a scrub brush rose from the bottom dripping and dribbling soapy water in expectation for the dishes that began to dance and float closer to it. His own breakfast dishes, the bowl and utensils used to make the breakfast cakes, and any other remaining tidying that needed to happen.

     “I have to be careful with this part.. Last time, I got lazy and a dish fell and broke in the middle, and now it keeps wanting to follow THAT loop instead of the correct one,” Ambrose said, clicking his tongue. “Dishes can be so frustrating, it almost makes me want to do them by hand again. ...Almost.”

     Dave looked like he was either going to bolt or start crying, working himself up and down from a frenzy while staring at the knife and flicking glances up Ambrose's direction every few moments. He flinched again when the mage came closer, pouring himself another cup of tea and ignoring the shining knife perched on the tabletop entirely till Dave brought attention to it himself.

     “..Why are you giving it back to me if you're so fond of it then?” Dave asked, trying his hardest to get his voice even and loud, get some of that pride back in there.

     “Because this is the one you chose. Either Fate guided your hand for this as well, or you just managed to grab a special one, it's still the one you chose and I would prefer you keep it if you wish. Choices have a purpose, they're very important. ..Almost more important than Fate. Choices make all the difference in which strands of Fate we all follow. And you chose that knife.”

     “What choices did I make to wind up HERE then?” Dave followed up, wondering if there would be any kind of insight. Anything that he could point to as a source of wrong. Even if he wound up just having to blame himself instead of anyone else, hating his own choices instead of some nebulous reach of Fate that he had been raised to believe in so thoroughly, it would at least let him know once and for all.

     “I wish I knew, but whichever choices you made that Fate interacted with, I'm more thankful than I can put into words,” Ambrose said as he took a sip of his tea, looking to make sure the dishes were washing and drying properly instead of trying to drop in the center and break themselves.

     Dave stares once more, looking suspicious. “..You're thankful? Why be so thankful, wouldn't you have rather had someone dropped on your lap who already loved you unconditionally?”

     “I take it you have no idea how long I've been going to the matchmaker before finally getting you as a match? To give you a hint: it's been a long time. A long. Long time. With constant reassurances that when Fate decided, Fate would choose well for me. All that time waiting, I already knew I wouldn't wind up with someone who'd been waiting with bated breath to wed me.. There is no easy guarantee with things of this matter unless you knew each other to begin with, and even if we had, I want differently.”

     “Differently?”

     “I want to woo you, Dave. I want to make you happy, I want to be the kind of husband you'd fantasized about as you grew up so this home is a better one than it is now. ...Isn't that what any good man is supposed to do?” he asked with an amused grin.

     “..Fate didn't choose so much as say one thing then plug its ears and sing aloud,” Dave said. “It chose you with the first roll then refused to budge in any other direction. It was almost scary to see it, and the matchmaker had never seen anything like it before. Why is Fate so sure I need to be here right this very second, wed to you? That's abnormal.” He took a breath. “Are you certain you didn't try to tamper with the readings?”

     “Dave, you're an attractive fellow, but how would I have manipulated anything? Especially having never met you before myself, there was no reason to pick you myself: Fate decided you were a perfect match at precisely this time. This is not my doing, but I will happily reap the wonderful benefits and see what I can do to make you feel just as satisfied or more.”

     The mage set his cup down and rested his hand on the tabletop before leaning, sliding the knife along the tabletop towards Dave.

     “So. Take the knife you've chosen, and get dressed. We'll figure out some kind of sheath later on, but please do not leave it in the snow somewhere,” Ambrose urged. “..You're free to wear your nightshirt all day if you'd prefer, but you may feel warmer for getting more cloth on you than just a scant nightshirt. It's a rather lovely sight to behold either way.”

     Dave's cheeks caught flame once more and he lifted his brows up before glancing down to his nightshirt and tugging the neck outward in consideration.

     “Do you still feel ill?” Ambrose asked at Dave's red face before he went to halt the cleaning dance safely, everything once more sliding into place with soft clinks and thumps. “You're red as a beet again. Do you need help? If you're still feeling tired, or light heade-”

     “I can do it myself,” Dave said swiftly, sitting ramrod straight all at once. He reached for the knife and pushed his chair away from the table with a loud squeak from the wood before rising and darting away towards his room. The light caught him just right, filtering through the fabric of the nightshirt, outlining the edges of his body perfectly as he ran forward, giving Ambrose a firm reminder of just what lovely secrets rested below that expanse of fabric.

     He glanced down at his tea again, and cleared his throat, stifling growing thoughts in his mind before they could run too rampant away from him. ..Perhaps he'd need a stiff drink before the day even hit noon, at this rate.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

     The day was spent showing Dave around his new home, the weather outside turning nasty enough to darken the halls before Ambrose lit candles and summoned up a soft amber light that followed them all around to fight against the gloom. Some of the sights were practical: two separate spots to relieve himself, general storage areas and a spare room of nothing but shelf space and nails to hang things from along a wall, the bath from before and where the water was at. Everything was tinged with a casual luxury from the materials and the construction, fancy enough that Dave felt rough even looking at them too long. This was too unfamiliar still, like stumbling into some noble's home in his underpants, nothing like what he expected his own home to ever feel like.

     When they began to open the many doors in the hall, Ambrose wasn't sure how quickly he should shuffle his new spouse through. The first was a library, expansive and far deeper and taller than the room should have been on its own, in a way that Dave couldn't explain. He was pretty damned sure he'd recognize this room from the outside of the house even in passing from the windows speckled with decorations in stained glass, let alone the vaulted ceilings with their many colorful lanterns. That wasn't something you could be that stealthy with.

     There were more books in this room than he'd seen in his entire life. Some were gigantic, big as his torso and resting atop tables for convenience, others were small enough to fit in his palm. Ambrose informed him that if he ever found a book that caught his fancy but that he either couldn't read properly or if it was in an entirely different language, that he could assist him in any way with it. The entire library was his to do as he pleased with, as were the cozy nooks and couches laying around to rest upon and relax in.

     The next room seemed to be something that the mage was hesitant about, putting it off for a moment before finally opening the door wide to let Dave in first.

     “I do some work in here occasionally, and I will understand entirely if you want to skip this place. It's not.. exactly something that everyone enjoys,” he warned.

     Aside from vials and what looked like a fairly elaborate brewing setup against a wall, there was shelf upon shelf of jars and bottles and boxes and open platters, all containing different sizes and shapes of specimens. Bones, powders, oils and vinegars, whole dried creatures, pickled snakes in sealed jars with their mouths open and fangs extended. A piglet with a second head was floating serenely in a large glass container with a solid lid atop it, while beside it sat an articulated skeleton of a cat.

     “It's gruesome, but they're important to my work,” Ambrose tried to explain, only to pause when he realized that Dave was staring not in disgust, but fascination. Dave wasn't just intrigued, his small husband was enthralled and going closer to examine the items up close, touching the jars and boxes and trays, and running a gentle finger along exposed bones in bowls or models stuck in their wire riggings.

     “..Wow.. I've seen some things similar to this before, but I never even thought of these other ways of keeping things around,” he admitted, and Ambrose felt a distinct pang of pride. Note to self: give Dave free range of this room as well, see if he wanted his own room for preserving specimens, and teach his alternative methods of doing this thing himself.

     Dave enjoyed the tour and was starting to happily build up an internal map of this labyrinth of a house, but one question still remained unanswered.

     “You've shown me everywhere else more or less, right? Can I see your room now?”

     “... You don't need to see my room, Dave,” the mage said softly but firmly. “If you need me in the night, you just need to come down this hall from your room and knock on the door. Or, even, knock on the wall nearest to your room and I'll come to you.”

     “Okay, that's nice, but. Why can't I see it? You showed me all these other places.. What, is it embarrassing?” he asked. “Or.. ...Do you secretly have people tied up in there? Are you waiting till I'm fed up enough to lure me in there an-!”

     “Dave, for the last damned time, I have no interest in fattening you up and eating you, that is a STORY and not a very cleverly told one at that!” Ambrose snapped, clearing his throat when he realized Dave had taken a step back from him and pulled the suspicious look back onto his face once more. Great. He'd just set everything back even further again. “Look. I've been waiting for Fate to deliver me someone to love, and you are that person, and I am going to cherish you whether you believe me entirely or not. I have nothing to gain from that, but I need you to believe me when I say that the only reason I'm not letting you into my room is because there is nothing for you in there. You have free reign of the entire house, but that room is mine until the day comes when I say otherwise.”

     After all the sweetness and endless patience, the playful words, suddenly having Ambrose be deathly serious and intense was a shock. Dave weighed his words for a moment before looking down the hallway, frowning at the bare wall. He lifted a hand up and pointed, wanting confirmation to a problem he'd just realized.

     “..So. You want me to knock on your door.”

     “Yes, knock on my door or any wall.”

     “That's a wall with a door drawn onto it,” Dave insisted.

     “It's still a door, Dave, you were awake when I brought you home. Not all of my doors need to be solid.”

     “...So wouldn't I wind up seeing your room anyway if I came knocking?”

     “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Ambrose said, smirking when Dave frowned, not liking the answer at all. “If you do then it's time to see it, but most likely it is not.”

     Damn it. Blocked into a box. Dave racked his mind, curiosity demanding to be sated, before he sprung on the first idea that seemed compelling enough.

     “We're married now, right? So.. Shouldn't I be seeing your room up close anyway soon? ..What. It some big magical secret?”

     Ambrose was quiet, jaw tense from frustration and from the effort it was taking to clear his mind of the immediate wandering it was doing, picturing Dave in his bed at least twelve different ways in the same span of breath. Fate hadn't just picked him out a perfect match, it had selected someone to absolutely test his patience.

     Perfect.

     “Yes. A big magical secret that you're completely unable to make use of at this time,” he finally said, trying to sound very final and firm in what he was saying, not wanting to give any chance to be bargained with.

     "..... Fine. Show me some other magic things that I CAN see now, then,” Dave immediately bargained, hoping to make at least a little bit of headway against the brick wall he was married to.

     "Was the breakfast routine not enough magic, then? Or the light from the tour? Would you like card tricks? Juggling?"

     "You can juggle?" Interest sparked in Dave's eyes and he grinned a bit.

     Ambrose seized on it immediately. "Of course. It's easy, actually. I can show you-"

     "Mn, no thank you. I was just surprised, is all. Besides, that's not magic."

     "Alright." Ambrose would bite. "What IS magic to you then, Dave? What counts as magic in your eyes,” he asked. “I'll know what to show you then."

     "Magic is.." Shit, how could he explain magic to a mage of all people, it felt distinctly out of place, and he can just tell from that shit eating grin that Ambrose is waiting for him to fuck up. Maybe this was a total setup just to make fun of him. "It's..."

     Though he'd expected some kind of strange answer or even something exceeding naive based on how startled Dave had been appearing to exposure to magic in general, Ambrose is a bit surprised by the answer his spouse chose. ..But then again, even unexpected, it's the answer that just keeps assuring him fate that chose correctly for him.

     "It's a feeling. I can't really explain it. Like.. Seeing it makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck, or.. or you feel it in your stomach, and it's impossible to fake. You don't get that with card tricks and juggling," Dave said as he moved his hands, trying to expand on something that wasn't quite physical and wasn't quite mental.

     Well. You CAN, but Ambrose doesn't want to correct him, not with this.

     "You've seen a lot of magic then, Dave?"

     "No," he said. "Not much at all, obviously. But it's definitely a feeling for me. So if you're gonna show me magic, show me real magic. Or show me your room."

     Showy magic isn't usually done in Ambrose's home when he's unprepared, and while he felt he should have foreseen this as a potential now that he was living together with Dave, he hadn't. Twice a nitwit. He had to pause and think for a long, stretching minute before he could come up with a piece of magic that wouldn't try to drain either one of them with wild abandon.

     "Lesson one," Ambrose said, raising his hand more dramatically than he had earlier during their walk through, "is that magic is inherently dangerous. Useful, but dangerous. Got that?"

     Dave nodded quickly. He doesn't entirely get it, but then again Ambrose didn't either when he first started. Dangerous like a knife? Like a horse? Like a forest fire? It never really sunk in till it was far too late and you'd already made your first big mistake that you can't undo.

     For now, something gentle and easy that won't anger the forces that be should be good. Ambrose let that feeling, that weight, sink into his stomach. It weighed his heels down, and in a breath or two, light began to gather in his palm, a ball that illuminated the dust motes of the hallway as they danced through space. It was different from earlier, warmer, and even Dave could tell that it felt more alive. Denser. Brighter.

     “I did this earlier, but it's far easier to gather a single grain of light and let it shine than to gather light the size of my fist and contain it enough to be safe. If this went loose, it could easily kill you, and potentially even myself if I were being that careless.”

     The suspicion left Dave's face entirely as he stared, and the hands raising to rest against his abdomen seemed to point towards him feeling the pull of the power at work. Fake magic? No, no that wasn't fake magic or an illusion, wasn't a party trick. This was the real deal.

     “Holy shit..”

     “I take it you can feel it, then,” Ambrose said, voice low to avoid breaking the sensation in the air.

     “Yes,” Dave said, eyes locked on the light but dragging away at last to look at the mage's face, taking in the faint glow of his eyes.

     "You're right about that feeling. I'm surprised you could recognize it so easy, actually. A lot of people see card tricks and juggling as -always- real magic, not just sometimes. They don't feel that tug at all." Fate hadn't just given him a perfect match, it had delivered him a magic sensitive perfect match. Perhaps there could be even more here.. “Can you sense the heat coming off from it?”

     "Yeah," Dave murmured absently, looking back to the light. He lifted a hand and reached his arm out as if caught in a daydream. "It's like a pull..." He put out his fingers to touch, reaching for the sphere.

     Almost immediately, Ambrose released his hold on the magic and set it free. The light scattered, returning to its normal path out of view, leaving them in the lower light of candles and lanterns. He closed his fist over the heat in his hand and stared at it pensively. There's nothing he can do about that; it just had to cool naturally. "Ah-ah, don't touch. Don't touch big magic if you didn't help create it. Consider that your first lesson in magic, and your first lesson on living here. If you feel that pull strongly, don't touch."

     Dave's face closed down into a sulk. "Why not?"

     "Because you didn't put anything in to keep it going or to come about. If you touch it... well. It will change," he said simply. "There would suddenly be more than is needed and the more would need to manifest."

     "Change as in how? Shape? Manifest what?" Dave immediately asked, confused but absorbing the new information like a sponge. It was charming, really.. Ambrose wondered if this was what it was like to have an apprentice preparing to do their journey.

     "Potentially, it could do a lot of things, not all of which are bad, but all of which are unpredictable if untrained. You could feel the pull, Dave, there may be power in you. If it reached that, and you know nothing of how to control it, a simple light could take out half this house. Could take your arm. Could leave ruin in its wake. Magic does wonders when it can be controlled and bargained with, when you can control yourself. But magic adores an inexperienced fool, Dave."

.. Potentially. Really, he didn't want to terrify him, but putting a brief fear into him would be better than Dave doing something risky and stupid in the future without thinking. Put caution into him now, save a disaster later.

     He can tell Dave is struggling with believing him or not. The light was proof enough, Ambrose can do these sorts of things that, for some reason, the kitchen earlier couldn't prove properly. Not to mention as well that he's hinting heavily there could be further lessons in the ways of magic. He could practically smell Dave's curiosity rising, and judging by the way he still had his hand pressed to his body as if to hold himself together, it wasn't going to dissipate anytime soon.

     "..Ambrose. Which way was the library again?" Dave asked, far too casually.

     Dave was many things, but he was the exact opposite of sneaky, and it held its own charm. Alright. He'd bite. Ambrose wasn't careless enough of a man to leave dangerous books in the main library; the more potent ones were in his room, or tucked away and hidden in his workshop. But he nodded all the same, and found himself curious to see what Dave would get into on his own. Where would that desire to chase the pull of magic take him? "Would you like to go back there now?"

     "It's warmer there than the hallways," Dave said, as if anyone needed an explanation or excuse. His eyes are practically glowing with interest now, and Ambrose could swear it was almost as much as the light had shone earlier in his own hand. "And I like to read. Usually I was too busy to do it much, and we only had six books. I read them cover to cover a few times already, and it was hard to convince others to lend me any. Books weren't really high on anyone's list when they got things from other villages or if anyone from cities came through."

     "Six is a lot. Especially in a village like yours," Ambrose commented. “..Actually, the fact you can read is wonderful in itself, good on you and your family. You can write as well then, yes?”

     "Yeah, but you have more. And.. yes, but it's hen scratch, I can't figure out how to make it clear.,” Dave said with a soft, pensive hum. “But, the library. It's this way, right?" Dave asked as he lowered his hands and stepped away on his own, almost trotting down the hallway towards the library. Well. So much for needing directions back there.

     Ambrose blinked as Dave took off, and watched as his blonde head disappeared around a corner before following after him, wanting to give him space. Well, at least Dave apparently felt more at home already, and there were no signs of the previous night's fever sparking back up. He foresaw magic lessons in his future, and wondered briefly if he was up to the task of handling a quick learner firmly enough to instill the lessons, but gently enough to still show love and affection.

     Lessons were for later, though. Right now, he needed to keep Dave from singeing off his eyebrows with the contents of whatever book he wound up gravitating towards. Maybe he would luck out and Dave would pick something tame to throw his budding interest at.

 


	4. Want and Caution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closeness lends to affection, and affection leads to situations that could be hard to imagine in times before. After a week of bonding in the library in close contact, steps to further their marriage begin to appear, some small, some very large and unstable. While Dave says he is ready to leap atop that unstable step with no fear, Ambrose is thrilled to stand flat footed on the stable steps. Will be be able to show the merit of taking time to mend the next step together and strengthen it for when the proper time arrives to take it together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr mirror: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/166199791492/doors-of-fate-ch-4-want-and-caution

     Time passing in the library was a sweet, gentle sensation familiar to the senses as warm sunlight and a well worn quilt draped over the shoulders. Dave's interests had blossomed, and his appetite for knowledge proved voracious. Ambrose wasn't sure if he'd ever really seen anyone as desperate to learn, and as intent on stubbornly teaching himself things as Dave aside from, well.. himself when he was younger. It was difficult not to just stare at his spouse for prolonged times when they were both at work in the library, and for a time, Ambrose didn't fight the urge. They spent a few days this way, lost in their own gently overlapping worlds as the snow outside continued to bury the house in powder, breaking for meals and sleep and light conversation that grew more casual with each dawn.

     Dave was quite a skilled reader, but magical texts were quite different from standard speech in how they were written, not even counting where words were borrowed from long dead languages and left to interpretation if you didn't know the translation by heart already. Though Ambrose kept Dave company on the long sofa's opposite end, he didn't mind being bothered over and over to translate or instruct a few words at a time when his spouse hit problem areas in the books. The offer was always open to just let him teach the lessons, to guide and help, but Dave had decided to forego the path in favor of stalking through the metaphorical tall grass with a broad blade.

     By the end of a week, there was finally signs of change.

     When evening came and Ambrose managed to pull Dave from his books long enough to breathe, he switched tactics to try getting him involved in the night. It had occurred to him that aside from obvious curiosity and an intense desire to learn new things, maybe even a natural calling from his blood for the pull of magic, Dave might just be throwing himself into the new interest so thoroughly out of a desire to not think about just how much had changed in his world. He didn't seem to mind the pattern they'd sort of established, but he would have to be a blind man to not notice the cautious staring and stolen glances, the way Dave hesitated when Ambrose reached his direction. It was expected given circumstance, but worrisome. It wasn't a thing that could continue, if they were to be happy at all in this marriage fate had arranged.

     “Dave, would you mind helping me make dinner?” he asked with a smile. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm fairly sure that even you would get tired of sandwiches and quick foods eventually, and I'd love to show you the extent my kitchen has to offer.”

     Dave was fairly sure he'd be able to eat the same food till time itself unraveled and left them in a heap, but he didn't say as much. Instead he rubbed his eyes with his palms and nodded at the offer, standing up on tired legs. ..Why was he so tired? He'd been reading a good deal, but not much else the last few days. Wake, grab some bread and jam and milk from the kitchen table or rise after Ambrose and get treated to some fried eggs with melted cheese, then go to the library. Break for sandwiches at lunch. Break for another kind of sandwich at dinner and either make it to bed on his own after a bath or wake up the next morning in his blankets thanks to being moved.

     He couldn't decide if it was on purpose and charming or just a force of habit on behalf of his husband that he always woke tucked in on all sides like a cocoon.

     “That.. sounds pretty good, actually,” Dave said. “I feel like my legs are jelly..”

     “Sitting still so long, I'm not surprised. I'd like to see if I can pull you from the books enough to spend some more time together tomorrow?” Ambrose offered, waiting by the door for Dave to come his direction into the hall. “I'd enjoy getting you more familiar with the things you've seen, and I'm sure the horses would enjoy the extra attention. It's still dangerous to ride far or go far alone, but if you're bundled up properly there's still treasures to be found outdoors in the yards.”

     “Treasures?” Dave asked, weaving his steps and wobbling as he took up step behind Ambrose. He could hear faint bubbling from the kitchen already, water that was kept boiling in an unused pot at all times. Supposedly it helped the air, made it harder to get bloody noses. Dave just thought it smelled nice, considering the herbs and oils that had been added at different times like gentle perfumes.

     “Oh, yes. Things don't grow in the snows. ..Not normally, at least. But I plant a good deal of things from far far away, as well as different plants with magical properties. Not to mention storing things underground through the seasons to be dug up later, or things strung in trees to dry.. That sort of treasure,” Ambrose said. “I also consider some of the animals that frequent the area heavily during snows to be treasures, if they take effort to catch and taste very good.”

     “..What kind of plants would grow in WINTER??” Dave asked as they headed into the kitchen at last, by now at least mostly familiar from his pass throughs in search of food and drink on his way back to the books or the bath. A cup of that delicious drink he'd been introduced to went amazingly well with some time in hot water and sweet smelling bubbles. He went to sit at the table but was quickly shuffled off to the counters to help.

     “Some root based plants, things that grow with introduction of ice specifically. Things aligned with the cold. You'll learn them Dave, most of them are safe to taste or eat,” Ambrose promised, shuffling Dave where he wanted him to go before handing him a knife and a bowl. “Here. Could you please scrub and cut up some carrots and potatoes? I'll be getting an onion for you as well.”

     “Are you making soup?”

     “Not quite. I'll be cheating with our supper a bit tonight,” he chuckled. “Do you prefer salted or smoked meats?”

     “Oh, don't make me choose, they're both delicious,” Dave sighed, looking around for the right bins and storage spots for the different vegetables till Ambrose gave him some hints. “I guess for Not Quite Soup I'd say smoked might make the taste quite nice, but salted would change how much seasoning you'd need.”

     “What if the meat were fish or small birds?”

     “About the same I think. ..What kind of Not Quite soup is this going to actually _be_?” Dave asked curiously.

     “I suppose it will be more like a pot pie, but depending on how thick the stew you grew up with was it might be even less like soup than I anticipated. I'm quite taken by the name already, though. A new customized dish that is Very Definitely Not Soup,” Ambrose chuckled as he headed off towards the pantry, leaving Dave to wash and begin cutting the vegetables into smaller chunks.

     His cheeks were flaming, and he couldn't quite place why. Had he just been getting teased this entire time? Was he being teased NOW? Or was this just how Ambrose showed affection? That thought alone made the heat in his face worse and an ache begin in the back of his stomach. He'd.. been wondering about that as well.

     So far, Ambrose had shown affection in very loose ways. Kisses to the cheek or head, an arm on his shoulders once in a while, touches of the hands. But not really much else. Dave knew from other newlyweds that Fate had ordained, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. If the ability was there, many wound up with children the nearly nine months to the day of their wedding. Yet here he was, a week in his new spouses home, the spouse who had apparently waited years for Fate to send him a love of his own.. and nothing. Ambrose had seen him naked and done nothing. They'd not shared a bed a single time, he didn't know what was beneath those clothes, hadn't sat and kissed and touched like he'd seen new pairs breathlessly do when they thought nobody could see them. He'd still not seen the inside of Ambrose's room, nor shared his own bed.

     ...Was something wrong with him? Or was this just how Ambrose was? Were they just going to be in a hands off marriage, or..? Dave had daydreamed about being able to lay with a husband or wife someday, had spent his time making eyes at others as he grew and spent many mornings waking up aching from the thought of hands and mouths and heat against his body. He wasn't sure what to do with himself if he was going to never have that want fulfilled.

     Should he just ask?

     No, no, how does someone just _ask_ something like that? 'Hello, why won't you sleep with me?' Really?? No, he couldn't, there was just no way. Dave scrubbed a few carrots and a potato harder than anticipated, stripping some of the skin from them before halting and going to start chopping. At least around a blade he'd need to slow his thoughts, let his mind wander in a less extreme fashion, maybe even think of a way to broach the subject in time. He'd get to be near Ambrose while he worked at least, and wouldn't have a book to duck himself away into if he got nervous.

     Dave knew was too old to run and hide, especially about things he wanted.

     “Oh, those are big chunks. Do you think you can make them about half as big?” came a steady voice from behind him.

     Promptly, Dave slipped the knife and sliced the edge of his pointer finger, dousing a hunk of potato in fresh blood.

     “Ah! I'm sorry, I could've sworn you'd have heard me walking up behind you,” Ambrose said as Dave yanked his hand back to investigate the slice. “Here, rinse it off. Let me pour some water and then we'll get it wrapped.”

     “Can't you heal it? There's healing magic, right?”

     “Yes. I could, but it's a small cut. I'm quite sure some washing and wrapping will do more than fine for it. I'll put an ointment on it to make it heal faster, though, so don't worry.”

     Rinses of cool water and gentle scrubbing with soap exposed the injury properly, and Ambrose couldn't help but notice the stoic nature that his husband dealt with injuries like this. Dave had had the sense to yank the knife back when he felt the sting instead of lean his weight forward in his startle, sparing his flesh and bone the worst that could have happened.. but judging from the edge of callous and other marks of scars on his hands, this wasn't a rare injury.

     “What's the worst you've been hurt while working the fields?” Ambrose finally asked after having Dave sit down for a moment so he could bustle off for a clean bit of cloth to wind in place and the right medicine to dab onto the site.

     “I almost lost a foot to a scythe, probably would have lost the leg in time,” Dave said. “It wasn't in the field, though, not during work. I left it laying on the ground at a bad angle like a fool, forgot I'd set it there when I went further afield to tend to cow going wild about a calf in a bush, and then RAN back through the grass and caught my ankle on the blade. There's a line there still. I'm lucky I caught the bone and not the tendons, I'd have been crippled for life.”

     Unable to resist his curiosity while treating Dave's injury, Ambrose lifted a brow. “Show me with your free hand? I've got this now.”

     Obliging with a shrug, Dave leaned forward in the seat and lifted the left leg of his trousers to display the clean pinkish band that lay in place on his flesh, stretched with his age and the passage of time. It almost looked like an anklet it had healed so cleanly, and though Ambrose's urge was to stroke or even give in to the voice in the back of his head to kiss it, he gave only a nod of understanding.

     “You weren't kidding. I'm surprised it healed that well, did you avoid all infection?”

     “Yes, my mother was very cautious and made sure we sent for medicine from the city even if it cost more. Others have had similar injuries and didn't get off nearly as well as I did, I'm lucky,” Dave said, arm wavering when Ambrose tied and tightened the cloth in place. His cheeks warmed when he felt the press of lips against the new bandage, and it remained even while his spouse removed the ruined potato, wiped down the cutting board and washed the knife, and started to slice on his own. “Wait, no, I can still chop things. I can handle it even with this, I already said I would.”

     “Well, if you're sure.. Alright, then. Here.”

     In comfortable silence they once more got to work. Dave chopped and sliced, realizing he was even more confused on how to approach the subject that had crossed his mind earlier, while Ambrose dealt with slicing up a chunk of salted meat. He guessed it was likely venison from the shape, but couldn't be certain till later when it would hit heat or his tongue. At this point, he wasn't going to ask. When the meat and vegetables were cut up, they mixed it all in the bowl with a few other plants and tidbits and roots. Another bowl was soon half filled with seasonings that Dave couldn't recognize. Some smelled savory, others sweet, some were leaves plucked and crumbled from plants that had been hand cut and hung drying along the ceiling in small bundles wrapped with brightly colored string for sorting purposes most likely. Dave noted several colors, but each bundle Ambrose plucked something from for the bowl bore a yellow string.

     “This is going to wind up being our gravy, for the Very Definitely Not Soup,” he chuckled as he added flour, oil and a bit of water before mixing into a runny paste, then mixed it with the vegetables and the meat. Everything wound up going into a deep edged pan.. only to be coated with a crust like a pie. “Not quite a pot pie, either. But it's certainly something tasty.”

     “You can stop teasing me about that, you know.”

     “I'm not teasing you, but I'll stop if you want,” Ambrose said with a shrug. “I thought it was a good name, because this doesn't have one. What would you rather call it?”

     “...Scoop pie,” Dave decided after a serious moment of silent consideration, arms crossed over his chest. “It looks like pot pie but more scooping involved, there's no bottom crust and it'll be runny.”

     “Scoop pie,” Ambrose repeated as he went to the oven space and focused on forcing the heat higher, coaxing it with magic. When it was a steady temperature and ready to take the load, he stabbed the crust a few times to keep steam from being trapped and stuffed the entire dish inside before slamming the door cover shut. “That's genius Dave, yes, let's do that instead. Much easier on the palette than repeatedly saying versions of the other,” he said with an amused grin, coming to peck his spouse on the cheek.

     Dave stared as he pulled back, face flaming, and took a moment to wet his lips. “..Why kiss my cheek? My lips are right here.”

     “It was closest and I wasn't sure if you'd want that yet,” Ambrose said. “But if that's what you'd like..”

     “It is. We're married, that's what married people _do_ , right?” Dave asked. Then without thinking much on it, he blurted the addition of “Or do you not want to kiss me? Is something wrong with me?”

     “No, no, nothing's wrong with you! I just.. You're so young, Dave, and we've only just been married, right? What if this isn't what you wanted? I don't want to push things at you, I've waited this long I can wait a lifetime more now that you're here if that's what it would take,” Ambrose said more seriously, a hand reaching up to stroke Dave's cheek with his thumb.

     “It doesn't matter if it's what I wanted or not, Fate already decided didn't she? I'm meant to be here with you,” he said. “End of story.”

     “Fate knows what she's doing, yes, she brought you here to me at last. But Fate isn't in charge of telling anyone if they're ready for something or not if they don't feel it themselves,” Ambrose said simply. “If you want kisses, I'll give you kisses. If you want me in your bed, I'll do that too. I'd do anything for you Dave.

     Dave's face screwed up slightly, and the redness remained. He looked so angry, but he wasn't sure WHY, couldn't understa- “I'm not a child, Ambrose, I'm a grown man and I'm well prepared to do all a spouse would do. We're wed, I can handle everything. Really. You could come to my bed tonight and I'd be thrilled to feel you,” he blurted.

     The mage considered Dave's words closely, and the dots seemed to connect in his mind. ..Oh. Well, then. Alright. If that's what his new husband wanted, he'd need to consider changing some of his methods. Endless space and caution could only go so far without giving the wrong idea, he supposed. This.. had really not been what he anticipated at all.

     “Alright then, since that's what you wish. I'll focus less on helping you not to set your eyebrows on fire in the library, and more on making you feel every single thing I've been feeling since you became the other half of my pair, bit by bit from now on,” he said softly, leaning closer a breath later to press his lips to Dave's, deepening it a fraction when he didn't shy away or startle. He slipped wide hands down to clasp at the narrow waist that had haunted his thoughts since the first day, holding Dave steady when he not only held the kiss but began hungrily pressing forward in search of more. Ambrose was the first to pull back, breaking the kiss to press their noises together, eyes bright and more alive than Dave had seen them yet. "...But first, dinner."

     Dave's stomach gave a sharp, heated twist and he shuddered in place. That had been a lot more intense than he'd assumed it would be, holy shit, would he be able to keep up with the real thing after all? He nodded numbly a few times and watched as Ambrose returned to where the food was cooking, hands lifted and starting to glow with a warm, reddish light. He barely got out a quiet “Careful!” before his spouse planted those glowing hands against the hot metal of the oven, instantly bringing it to a red hot state around his fingers. Dave felt the warmth even from where he stood, face feeling strained as if the sun itself had come closer. Ambrose's clothes were billowing gently from the newly formed hot breeze licking over him, hands flat on searing metal without a care in the world.

     Above it all though was the smell of the food. The unmistakable aroma of meat and vegetables, seasonings and those powerful fresh herbs bubbling away beneath a buttery crust began hitting Dave strongly enough that he forced himself closer to the inferno to investigate, astounded that it could be smelling this close to ready when it had been in less than a few minutes. Ambrose's face was blank and his eyes had taken on a soft golden glow, all of his focus resting on his hands and the force he was continuing to exert upon the metal.

     When the mage withdrew his hands from the metal, white hot hand prints remained in place until he clenched his fists and pulled back at the air as if tugging free a tangled knot. Shiny threads and spangles of lights in the same red his hands had been producing slowly came free from the oven, the metal making soft ringing sounds and heavy clunks as it rapidly cooled. The room grew steadily colder as Ambrose collected that light and held it steady, then pressed it tightly in his hands till it had dispersed back to its source. Ambrose's palms were blackened with soot when he dusted his hands together afterwards, making him grimace.

     “Oh. Dave, could you take the food out for me? I need to wash my hands off and it always gets gummy, so it'd take a moment. There are cloths to use right on the counter there, near the end. You shouldn't get burnt from the stove at all, but the food and its container are still quite hot.”

     “Wha-? Oh. Yes. Where do I set it after?” Dave asked as he came forward to collect the cloth and open the startlingly cold oven bare handed and leaning towards the hot container inside to take a few interested sniffs. “Ooh, this smells good..”

     “The table if you would,” Ambrose said as he headed to the wash basin, scrubbing with a cake of soap and a brush to free his hands of the mess. He seemed strained but determined, wanting to get it off fast as possible, and Dave wondered briefly if he had some kind of an aversion to filth. He hadn't been here long and hadn't seen the man get dirty yet, but if that was so, he couldn't help but wonder how in the world he'd have reacted to him during planting or harvest season. Mud from head to toe, sweat, bits of grass and weeds and stones, reeking of animals and manure, red faced with fatigue. Would the mage still want to kiss and touch his little spouse so dearly if he saw him in his element instead of cleanly scrubbed and polished perched in a library? Dave cleared his mind of the thoughts and plunked the steaming dish down on the table atop another cloth to keep the space from becoming scorched.

     Ambrose's hands were reddish but clean when he came back with bowls and a serving spoon. A basket of bread and a dish of creamy butter found their own way to the table when the man flicked his hands, starting up a mealtime procession that seemed second nature. A single cup and a bottle of what looked like wine came bobbing over, leaving Ambrose irritated.

     “No. Two cups. _Two._ Dave lives here now as well, and it's rude not to offer people drinks anyway when you're imbibing. ..Though. Dave, would you rather have something else? Milk, juice, water, tea..? I could make that chocolate drink again if you'd prefer.”

     “No, I'll have what you're having,” he insisted, leaning forward to sniff a few more times at the food before sitting back to wait and relax. The bread cut two chunks from itself and began to apply the deep yellow butter in a fine spread, depositing a slice for each of them at opposite sides of the table. Another cup soon darted from the shelf and settled at Dave's place beside the bread, weaving around Ambrose as he served the food out for both of them. It had cooked inside and out in such a small amount of time that Dave was left baffled.

     “Why do you not cook like that all the time? Wouldn't that mean you can just make whatever you want at any point instead of waiting for hours?”

     “Well. Yes and no. It impacts the flavor in my opinion, and the finer points of it are harder to control. But something simple and savory like this I don't mind pulling the stops out for,” he said, sliding the steaming bowl to Dave. “The other thing is just practicality. Waiting for something and expending no energy is far safer than trying to perform that magic while I'm tired or distracted. I was already distracted, but wanted to be sure we ate.”

     “What was distracting you?”

     “Every inch of you standing beside me,” Ambrose said with a lifted brow, a bit surprised Dave hadn't caught on. “Kissing you just before, more specifically. You're wonderful to kiss, Dave, and I can only hope to make you completely aware of that.”

     It was an awkward meal, but not for lack of trying or too much. Ambrose had cracked the wine open, sweet and mild and tasty alongside the strongly flavored food. Dave couldn't find his words half the time, left nodding or mumbling something offhanded whenever Ambrose tried to speak to him, flush wild on his cheeks and throat whenever he realized he hadn't actually listened to what was said. His mind was running wild. It wasn't here eating the (admittedly fantastic) dinner, it was back in the library perched on the edge of the table with Ambrose's head down between his thighs. It was bent over his mattress with his chest and face rubbing against the blanket each time they rocked forward. It was right here, leaning over and getting another kiss while he set his hand on the mage's thigh.

     A floodgate had opened, and Dave's mind was running with it the same as anyone his age and lack of experience would: straight to every gutter it had been avoiding just from the fact he'd been so distracted. Who knew: trying to teach yourself magic was the quickest way to forget erections were even possible.

     “-ve? ….Dave?”

     “Wha-?” he asked, looking up from his food, lips parted in surprise.

     “I was asking if you'd like to take a bath after dinner. I was hoping to wash up, but if you go first I wouldn't mind at all,” Ambrose repeated. “I was wondering if that sounded like a good plan or not to you.”

     “First? You'd be going after?”

     “...Yes? What else would I be doing?”Ambrose asked with an amused laugh, spearing a bit of carrot with his fork before tipping it to scoop up some of the crust and sauce. “Did that wine hit you hard? It's supposed to be mild, it tasted more like a fruit juice to me. Were you not from much of a wine home?”

     “We were more of a mead home, but I've had ale and wine before plenty of times. Watered down when I was younger though. No, it's not strong, I'm just.. distracted.”

     “Distracted,” Ambrose repeated, brows lifting. “Distracted how I was earlier?”

     Dave tipped his bowl and scooped the warm food into his mouth hurriedly to clear his portion, slowing only to chew before swallowing to avoid choking. Down also went the buttered bread with the dregs of the sauce, and just as fast went the rest of his glass of wine. He slapped both hands flat on the tabletop as he stood up quick enough to skid his chair back on the floor, and leaned forwards.

     “Dinner was great! I'm. Gonna go take that bath now, yeah, I'll see you afterward,” he promised, darting out of view as if his ass was on fire and the rest of him was catching.

     Stunned, Ambrose stared off in the direction Dave had fled, confusion visible on his face. Fuck, did he come on too strong? He'd been worried about this happening. Sighing, the mage sulked down in his seat and pushed his food around aimlessly, chastising himself for his lack of forethought. The first time he'd managed to finally kiss his spouse, and he'd fucked it up.

     Great.

     Way to go, Ambrose, pat your ass over being so courteous and careful for so long and then make the new love of your life upset. Worse, he wasn't entirely certain HOW he'd upset Dave, so it was going to be a mystery till he could figure out how to not repeat it. The kiss had apparently been fine, was it the teasing that had been too much? Ambrose couldn't put his finger on it, and the more he tried to more upsetting it got. He took another few bites of food before taking the wine bottle and topping off his glass a healthy amount, tipping it back till the bottom met the sky to drain it. It raced like warm water down his throat and hit his stomach, trying to spread and help get rid of the strange unsettled feeling.

     It wasn't till he'd given the signal to the dishes to clear themselves and headed out the door into the familiar scent of horses and hay that it clicked into place properly what had just happened.

     Oh.

     ... _Oh._

     Dave wasn't angry or upset, he was..

_**Oh.** _

     Somehow, this was more effective on Ambrose than even the kiss had been, the knowledge that he'd managed to get his new spouse hot and bothered from something so gentle and not have it met with rejection or upset. He was glad this was something he was capable of with such a new match, Fate really did know best.The interest was there, and Dave knew he felt the same.. so the best thing to do now was wait and let the younger man come to him in his own time. Continue being available, continue the kisses and gentle touches that had been given the okay, and see if more would blossom in time. Their marriage was a new bud that would surely blossom into a most exquisite flower in the coming years.

     With renewed vigor, Ambrose wasted nearly an hour on the chores, cleaning out the stalls and distributing food and treats, brushing the horses silky hides down while lovingly cooing at them. He flinched when the door suddenly banged open, shoved too hard with unfamiliar hands and left to clatter upon the wall behind, and looked up to see what could have happened. ..And froze, staring.

     Dave stood in the doorway lit from behind by the light of the kitchen. His hair was still damp and combed loosely into place despite the obvious drips on his face, and a loose sleeping gown had been pulled on over his head. It may be a calf length, shapeless item of clothing like a comfortable flour sack, but lit from behind it didn't leave anything to the imagination. Ambrose swallowed dryly before finding his words.

     “..Yes?”

     “You're still here,” Dave said, as if trying to convince himself of the fact, breathing out a n obviously held breath as gently as he could. “I thought you'd be in the library or somewhere, since the kitchen's cleared.”

     “I. Yes I'm still here, where else would I be?” the mage asked with a confused blink. “This is my home. Is something wrong? You knocked that open in a hurry.”

     “No! No, the door was just. Lighter than I thought it was, I didn't mean to slam it open. I thought maybe you'd gotten angry or annoyed. I, ah. ...I kind of ran off very suddenly earlier,” Dave muttered, face reddening. Damn it, he'd thought a single thing and ran with it instead of thinking critically. Stupid, _stupid_..! “Perhaps gave the wrong impression. I'm sorry for that, that was childish.”

     Ambrose shook his head and locked his eyes upward. Focus, stupid, _focus_. “What? No, no, I figured out why you'd run after you left. It's nothing to apologize for Dave. I just needed to tend the horses for a moment, keep their space clean, feed them. You know how it is.”

     “I mean. I know that _now_ but I wasn't sure, and. ..Yeah.”

     ..That was worrying. Why was he so tense all at once? The evening was a tailspin, one moment was flirting and acting like they'd edge towards the nearest flat surface soon, the next Dave was acting panicky and anxious about upsetting him. Were things alright or not? Just looking at Dave was confusing, he seemed anxious over something and from how stubborn he was, there was pretty blunt knowledge that his spouse wouldn't be speaking up on his own without at least a little encouragement. Ambrose set the horse's brush down and approached the open door spilling its warmth out to the cooler air, stepping into the doorway so half his body was on either side of the divide before he reached for husband.

     No resisting, but a tension lay in Dave's arms that didn't feel right, didn't look right. Ambrose stroked along his upper back in a petting motion before reaching his left hand up to his chin, lifting it to get a look at his eyes.

     “Dave, really now, what's wrong?”

     “Nothing,” Dave insisted, tipping his face away from Ambrose's hand, just as ready to back up and run again. “You know what, never mind, this was stupid. I'm glad you're home still, the bath's reheating. I'm going to bed.”

     “Would you like me to come with you for a moment?” Ambrose asked, intending to help him get cozy, maybe heat the bed warmer for him if the sheets proved cold. Nothing new, nothing different. Dave tensed visibly and clenched his fists at his sides.

     “..If you'd like.”

     The mage frowned. Letting go of Dave entirely, the mage bent down and scooped him up behind the knees and upper back, lifting him like a bride and heading down the hallway. After an initial squawk of displeasure, Dave tensed his arms and legs up with a hiccuped breath, looking absolutely petrified. When Ambrose plopped him onto his bed, he remained still for a moment before suddenly dropping his arms to his sides and turning his face away.

     When Ambrose didn't touch him, didn't speak, Dave finally opened his eyes and sat up on his elbows.

     “Uh. Aren't you going to take my clothes off, now?”

     “..No? Why would I be taking your clothes off for no reason?”

     “Aren't you going to bed me?”

     The mage lifted a brow and crossed his arms.

     “..Is that what you'd like me to do right now?”

     The same tense look appeared and Dave stiffened his features before nodding a few times to say yes. It was the most anxious 'Yes' Ambrose had ever seen, and he shook his head immediately.

     “I don't want to, then.”

     The anxiety changed to worry just as fast, and Dave sat up on his knees, grabbing at the bottom of his nightshirt and wadding it up in his curled fists.

     “Wait. Wait, what? Why? Don't you want me? I. You were alright with the kisses, right?” Dave asked, seeming baffled.

     “Oh, yes, I was fine with the kisses. Still am. Are you fine with this, though? It's a lot more than a kiss.”

     “Yes!”

     “Really?”

     “Yes! Absolutely fine! I'm ready to do this, Ambrose, I said it earlier right?” Dave asked, suddenly yanking the bottom of the night shirt up to expose himself, clean and entirely limp beneath. He was stopped from yanking it up over his head by two large hands taking hold of the fabric, tugging it sharply back down to cover him up once more. “Hey. Hey, don't do that, let me take it off!”

     “Dave, stop.”

     “Ambrose, come on, let me take this off so we can get this over with, it's fine!”

     Dave yipped when his gown was yanked down even harder, free of his hands. Not only that, but he was soon scooted back against his cushions, and the blankets were thrown over his legs as if he were being soundly tucked in. Ambrose smoothed the cloth there out more gently before sitting at the foot of the bed to watch Dave closely.

     “..Dave. Do you really, honestly, actually want to have sex or not,” he asked quietly. Then, a little louder, “Really, it's completely fine if you don't. I'm not mad if you don't. I don't care. Just having you here with me means the world.”

     Though he looked angry at first, Dave's features soon smoothed down to something sadder, less certain. He rubbed at his elbow and watched the fabric over his knees as if it would suddenly start to move before glancing back up towards his husband's face.

     “..I don't know.”

     “You don't know..?” he asked softly. “How so.”

     “I want to try it. Really. Honestly, I want to try it,” Dave said, leaning forward and clenching his fingers in the blankets. “I waited till I was married, I behaved, I want to know what it's like. I felt that want! And it's what married people do! I want... I want to know what that feels like.”

     “I'm sensing a 'but' in there.”

     Dave looked up at his face, then darted his eyes to the side, not wanting to look at him properly.

     “..But I also sort of.. don't.”

     Humming quietly, Ambrose sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Dave wasn't a child. He was an adult, living life the same way everyone else in his village did. This was normal for him, expected by others who had experienced it themselves as well, but the situation was a little different. Dave hadn't wound up with someone his same season but instead with someone who had waited for him for _years_ to appear in his life. There were others in similar situations, albeit less extreme than 'mage feared as the boogeyman by the local village', but they weren't the majority.

     Finally, he let out a soft sigh.

     “Do you remember when you were willing to die to get away from me, Dave?”

     “...Yyyyes...? I mean, I wasn't trying to die to get away, and it was kind of a misunderstanding, but I jus-”

     “Not the point. Dave, that was about a week ago.”

     “And?”

     “Let's.. see if we can get at least a month past a near death escape attempt before we bring cocks into the equation,” he suggested gently, holding his hand out. “I'm more than happy to kiss you if you'd like, I'll even hold you. But I think it might be best to put off consummating our marriage just a bit longer.”

     Dave's face fell. He looked less tense at least, but the frustration was real and it made Ambrose's chest ache.

     “But. ..What if I want to before then?” he asked. “Without a doubt want to, I mean? This is all just because I'm not positive, right? If I jus-”

     “Then we'll figure it out later. This isn't a countdown, or a timer, this isn't setting an appointment,” Ambrose said. He turned on the mattress and crawled up the blankets to straddle Dave's legs, leaning his weight onto his hands at either side of Dave's narrow hips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his cheek, then lower to the side of his jaw before gently pulling back to look at his eyes. “This is an 'I love you and want you to be truly happy', even if it doesn't seem like it. Never force yourself to do something when I'm involved. How can I spoil you rotten if you're stressing yourself out?”

     Finally, Dave grinned a bit. His cheeks were reddening from the position Ambrose remained locked in over him, but he lifted both arms to sling them firmly around the mage's neck, drawing his face closer with confident force, pressing their lips firmly together for a few heart stopping moments before pulling back to lay flat against his cushions.

     “Alright, then. You've _maybe_ got a bit of a point. ..We'll try later.”

     “Yes.”

     “Is it going to be worth waiting for, or are you just buying time because you know you're not very good?”Dave asked suddenly, words blunt but delivered so smoothly that Ambrose wasn't certain he'd heard correctly at first

     The sudden question sounded like it was going to break the man from how suddenly he laughed, body sagging and trying not to drop down on Dave's legs like a sack of bricks. When he calmed enough to catch his breath, eyes shining with that same vibrant gold as they had been during the close moment in the kitchen, Ambrose could only grin.

     “I want to say yes. But we'll just have to wait a while longer to find out, won't we. We've got all the time in the world to improve in the future if you decide I'm terrible.”

     Dave's content grin remained in place, sealing the deal with a nod.

 


	5. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more Dave studies and expands his awareness in a house filled to the brim with magic and magical items, the more likely it is that there will be issues. It's not a question of 'if', this development merely being something that would occur in a matter of time. Instead it is a question of how Dave's husband can help him handle the changes while bracing for more volatile magical reactions caused by their growing attraction?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/171338930537

     Time continued to flow in the house, with more and more discoveries being made each day. For instance, Dave enjoyed his eggs most when there was just enough yolk to sop up with a chunk of bread, and liked his pancakes dripping with sweet or savory spreads and syrups. He slept in more after trying to physically practice the things he'd been reading about, often snoring softly even after Ambrose had come in to try waking him. He liked being barefoot more than wearing socks and slippers, hated tucking in his shirt, slouched enough that Ambrose worried for his young husband's back in the future. He was quick to react with frustration to new things, and quickly turned to anger that fizzled out in an instant. Dave was quick to smile the most amazing, bright, pure grins of delight Ambrose had ever seen in his life.

     He was also, after some experimentation, quick to blush. Very, very quick to blush the prettiest shade of pink and red, pretty enough that it'd put his summer garden to shame.

     The easiest, most direct way to make Dave blush was compliments. Plain, simple compliments on his handwriting, his cleverness, how well he could clean the horse's pens or learn to fold fluffy omelets on his own with steady tapping and rolling gestures of the pan, shirt off in the kitchen and his hair tousled in twenty different directions like feather soft down that caught the firelight like a halo. Oh, not to say Ambrose didn't also compliment his voice, the delicate touch of his hands, the posture he took when he was trying to explain something or get something explained to him. A prince out of a storybook, really, with the mental image aided by the finery Ambrose continued to steadily slip into his clothing options alongside the more laid back items. 

     They never discussed where he got these things. Dave simply accepted them as he accepted anything else in the house, and same as he increasingly accepted touches and squeezes.

     He acted touch starved, the divine creature Fate had chosen for Ambrose. After their agreement to not move too fast, Dave blossomed and began to reach out more and more often. He'd run up behind Ambrose in the kitchen or library, the room where he mixed potions and powders with the many jars of ingredients, and hug around his waist or kiss his back. Dave would lounge on him in the library, and, occasionally, in his own bed when he could lure the mage to follow him in for hot cocoa in the evenings and quiet discussions. A change of venue, though not the one Dave so sorely wanted. Ambrose knew he wanted it, too.

     Wanted HIS room. Wanted to see the mage's secrets, his sleeping quarters that were kept so hidden even from Dave himself. If only it were so easy to give, it would have been delivered in a heartbeat to make the little blonde smile, but alas, sometimes life was just not that simple.

     “Can I see it soon...?” Dave asked one afternoon in the kitchen. Ambrose's original plan had been to make cookies, but somehow Dave had wound up on the countertop instead and it was increasingly hard to think of anything but the desire to kiss him senseless. Dave's legs bare from the knee down, shirt too large and dangling down to frame his collarbones was doing no favors for regaining that drive to bake. “Your room. I already know where it IS more or less, can't I just see it?”

     “You'll see it someday,” Ambrose promised, tapping the edge of the sieve to make the dry ingredients sift together properly, not wanting clumps. “Just not now, or the certain near future.”

     “But  _ why _ ?” Dave demanded. Ambrose could hear the whine on Dave’s lips, feel the hurt in his own bones.

     “Because I don't want you in my room,” he said simply. “You have run of the entire house, the grounds so long as you're accompanied or I know you're going out. There are very few things I outright want private here, and one of them is my room. I need you to deal with that.”

     Dave swung his legs again as Ambrose sifted the ingredients into the bowl. His pout seemed to weigh down the air like the press of a heavy hand.

     “..Fine,” Dave finally mumbled. “But someday, maybe? You said someday before.”

     “That I did. Someday is not today, nor tomorrow, nor any day I'm planning ahead for specifically. When it's time, you'll see my room. I just don't know when it will be,” the mage said. “Don't push me on this, I may be wed to you but I'll still swat you across the ass with a broom and shoo you like a poorly trained pup.”

     “Do you intend to bed me in my room then slip away to your own after?” Dave asked suddenly enough that Ambrose's hand slipped, missed the edge of the sieve and dragged it over the counter, spraying fine powder particles everywhere.

     “Where in the world would you get an idea like  _ that _ ? And the answer is no! When time comes I'd much prefer to spend time with you after, wherever that may be.” He frowned. “Why did this conversation jump from seeing my room and being grouchy at me to asking about future sex habits?”

     Though Dave's temper obviously was alive, rising, wanting to strike like a serpent... it was already minding itself. An ignition of a flame that soon was snuffed, Dave leaning to hug onto Ambrose's nearest arm as the mage scooped powder into his other hand to deposit back into the bowl. No wasting.

     “...I just don't want that to suddenly be a thing. It's kind of weird we sleep apart. If you suddenly started disappearing once we actually... y'know. I don't know what I'd do.”

     “You sleep on me almost daily in the library now,” Ambrose pointed out, setting down the sieve in favor of stroking Dave's hair as he nestled against his shoulder, not wanting to waste a second of the sweet affection. Every time his spouse gravitated in for cuddles, it was his sworn duty to deliver them. He was fairly sure it was a law at this point, unspoken tho it was.

     Dave peered upwards flatly. “You know that's different and not at all what I mean. I'd be sleeping by you in bed! In my bed!”

     “...Dave, pet, are you under the impression that just being in bed makes something official?” Ambrose realized. “Is it not sex if it isn't happening in your bed?”

     “Why would it really happen somewhere else though, beds are soft and nice,” Dave said, lifting his chin stubbornly and ignoring the warmth in his face. “I mean. There's no  _ rules  _ but... Why?”

     “Because sex in the library would be fascinating and I think you know it,” Ambrose hummed, kissing the side of Dave's ear, working down to the side of his neck teasingly.

     “It'd make a mess though!”

     “Do you plan to spurt a fountain of come all over the books, Dave? How lewd,” the mage laughed, abandoning the bowl of blended powder to step quickly to the side, up between Dave's dangling legs so he could press his hands around his narrow waist, stroke at his hips with his thumbs and the length of each finger in hypnotic patterns. He trailed them up and down Dave’s back instead when his spouse didn't seem startled in the slightest by the first contact.

     Instead, Dave bravely scooted himself forward till their bodies were flush, reaching up around Ambrose's neck to tug him down for a proper kiss. “You're teasing me again.”

     “You're a delight to tease, Dave, I can't exactly help but realize that. Should I stop?” Ambrose said as he kissed chastely at the corners of Dave's lips till he shivered. “We're in a compromising position that is also not your bed, nor the library.”

     This close, this warm as they swapped breaths and touches, it was so easy to see the gentle fog in Dave's eyes. The younger man couldn't explain what he wanted yet, wasn't even certain himself if that's what he was truly after, and the desire to just have Ambrose show him everything possible was just on the tip of his tongue. Instead, though, Dave planted a kiss flat on his husband's mouth and held it for a moment. To the mage's surprise, he soon felt a press of tongue, warm and wet as it shyly sought permission for entry.

     It was fairly obvious that Dave wasn't that great of a kisser, honestly. There was passion, there was intensity, but the difference was very distinct in the most charming way Ambrose had ever considered possible. There was shyness blended in with curiosity, wanting to assert himself, wanting to take control he didn't even know what the fuck to do with once he got hold of it. He allowed Dave to explore all he wished, timid presses this way or that as he panted his breaths through his nose and pressed their bodies close as he could from the countertop, loving the shelter of Ambrose's arms even when his hands wandered away from his body and planted flat on the counter instead.

     When Dave had settled for repeating himself, Ambrose gave a brief push. He leaned forwards and deepened the kiss bit by bit to gauge Dave's reactions. When his spouse opened his own mouth and shuddered, welcoming him, it was as good a cue as any to roll with things.

     It felt natural, felt welcoming. Dave's knees squeezed Ambrose’s hips tight as Dave rocked his own once or twice instinctively, already hard. Well, at least they matched. Ambrose lifted one hand to stroke the back of Dave's neck soothingly, gripping at the hair of his nape to gently tug him back, pressing forward when there was suddenly more space available for them.

     Where was the bowl? The ingredients? He didn't remember clearing anything.

     There was no time to think. Dave's hands were straying away from his neck to his chest, his ribs, his waist, and every so often he'd grace his dick with a few firm rolls of his body in a delicious tease. They'd changed position as Dave leaned further back onto the countertop, tugging Ambrose along with him by the lips and hips, flattening out together. Ambrose's weight on him seemed to set Dave off more, brought in the frantic edge of fire that the mage had daydreamed of for ages while waiting for Fate to deliver.

     The spark wasn't subtle. It was a stinging flash between their bodies, a sharp pinch from each of their hands in the palms, the feeling of heat increasing till they were worried they'd lose their minds. Dave was the one who noticed, after a brief moment of groggily opening his eyes, that half the kitchen was floating around them as they hungrily kissed. The ingredients Ambrose had blended together in the bowl were floating, the particles spread out in a soft brown cloud free of the bowl. Butter, utensils, flour, pans, books, even the milk from the jug was all floating lazily around them.

     Who was steering the spell? Ambrose had said magic like in the kitchen was directed, he gave orders and they followed their pre-destined path. It had to be Ambrose, right? He'd said not a word, made no movement. Would he be able to learn magic that didn't need spoken words eventually too?

     His train of thought ended when he felt Ambrose rock his hips testingly a few times, spreading that feeling of warmth and want up Dave's spine, stomach giving an excited flutter. The gesture was so little, but it meant the world. Heat and pressure, push and pull, deep, wet warmth and heavy breaths. It wasn't just him feeling needy, no. He could feel the strain and desire on Ambrose as well, heavy as a cloak from the way he drank in Dave's every single reaction like precious rain water. 

     When Dave felt dizzy though, almost overwhelmed, he asked as he gasped for breath, “Can you teach me how to do that sometime?” 

     Ambrose kissed his cheeks and chin, his nose, and Dave smirked when he realized it was mostly for the mage to calm himself from the frenzy they'd dipped into, gentle, almost worshiping.

     “Teach you how to do what, Dave,” he murmured, pulling back with a shivery breath, golden eyes flashing. There was definitely magic at work in them, lively and attentive. They looked worried briefly though, staring intently at Dave while waiting for a reply.

     “Look up,” Dave said. “Make things float like this without telling them to? Everything's moving.”

     Ambrose jerked his head up suddenly and looked around, startled, lips gently parted.

     “I'm... not doing that,” he said.

     “Your eyes are lit up, you are so!”

     “Yours are too,” Ambrose hissed warily, just before everything dropped with a clatter. Dave yelped when he was splashed with milk, the flour mixture splattering them both and getting into Ambrose's hair, utensils going flying, the bowl shattering on the edge of the counter as it hit the floor. The most terrifying thing that fell was a large knife, sharp and dangerous, falling from above to stab heavily into the countertop just to the right of the mage's bent back.

     Close fucking call.

     Dave shoved at his husband's chest till Ambrose got up and off him, both dripping with milk and mess, clothes ruined. He grimaced and stood up, hands lifted out to his sides to encourage the dripping away from his fingers and his arms instead of holding it against himself.

     “Oh,  _ ew _ this isn't going to just wipe off.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Let me go heat up the water for a bath.”

     “I'm coming with you,” Ambrose said, walking stiffly to the hallway, trailing milk and mess as he went. He paused only to gesture with his hand, frustrated, waiting till the normal spell took hold and the automation for cleaning kicked into gear. He sighed and turned once more. “Come on, I'll help you with the water.”

     “I can handle it!” Dave insisted. It felt nice to have the companionship though, even messy and embarrassed as he was. It was harder to focus on the fact his pants felt too tight this way, at least. It was going to be increasingly difficult to feel aroused when one had milk soaked into the side of their pants and flour in their everything, and even more difficult to deny the bit of help when it was presented.

     “Then you can handle it and I'll just get this mess off and use the water at the first opportunity,” Ambrose mumbled, leaving behind a trail of mush as he passed Dave and headed into the washroom, Dave following. He'd taken the brunt of the things falling, the worst of it, and he looked the most offended at existing now. 

     For some reason it hadn't really registered with Dave that when Ambrose said he'd be joining him, he'd meant the most obvious way: stripping down the ruined outfit and setting it aside to be washed, and wasting no time in getting some of the worst muck out of his hair by way of scruffing at the strands with his fingers over the smaller standing basin. He'd ditched his shirt, his shawl, his slippers, and halfway opened his trousers, leaving a clear view of his torso and the broad expanse of his back with the angle he was bent at. “Be a dear and pour a bucket over my head? I don't want to ruin an entire tub with this alone.”

     Dave stared, momentarily forgetting how filthy he was himself. This was the most of his husband he'd seen yet, bared and open before him, coated in paper thin scars as if a swarm of locusts bearing needles had raced past him when he was younger. Some were larger, some were burns, and there were tattoos of some kind up near his shoulder blades in entrancing whorls Dave recognized as letters. He wasn't able to read any of them, but he knew what they were and tried to memorize what he was looking at for later.

     “Dave.”

     “What?”

     “Bucket, Dave. Get the bucket and pour water over my head here. Please,” Ambrose repeated, sounding strained. Everything was sticky and disgusting, he was still half hard despite everything, and between the desire to get clean and to fully calm himself, cold water over his head was as good of a start as any.

     “Oh! OH. Right, yes, bucket, I can do that,” Dave said, running to the water to fetch a pail full before returning and rising up on the balls of his feet, hefting the heavy thing up. “Okay, duck down a little, here it comes.”

     It was a brief warning, but good enough for Ambrose. Instead of yelping or erupting in loud curses or flinching away, he let out a fairly high pitched sound that rose and fell like a tense wail in his chest, eyes clenched shut while he hurriedly scraped and scratched with his nails to clean himself in the chill water. It was brisk enough to leave him light headed and, most wonderfully of all, soft again. When the water at last stopped falling, he stood up straight with a few chilled shivers, rubbing at his face with his wet palms to rid them of residual droplets.

     “Fuck but that was chilly,” he muttered. “Here, go ahead and build up your fire, I'll help with the water. I need to warm myself back up, a bit of moving around would help.”

     Dave could only nod and dumbly move to follow his spouse's bidding, head turning periodically as his hands worked, mind wandering. He was busy watching the muscle beneath Ambrose’s skin shift and change, the scars dancing in place effortlessly. Each stray trail of water made his throat go dry when it managed to keep beading down low, with the most fascinating ones disappearing out of view beneath the waistband of the mage's pants. 

     Before long, a fire was popping and crackling away beneath the tub, and Ambrose filled it more than half way before slowing for a brief break.

     “Are you okay?” he asked. “Nothing hit you earlier, right? You seem a bit dazed. Need to rinse yourself? It's rough but it's quite refreshing actually, I feel exceedingly awake.”

     Dave grimaced at the idea of cold water and hurriedly shook his head, sending some chocolatey flour flying. “No. No, I'll wait for the bath, thanks.”

     “...Ah. Right,” Ambrose said as if suddenly realizing. “You go ahead and take the first bath. I'll go after you.” He bent to scoop up his soiled clothing. 

     Every movement was still being watched by Dave, who was attempting to memorize every inch of skin, wondering what it felt like. The realization that he could just reach out and stroke his spouse was slow coming but worth it, and Ambrose paused to look down with a soft smile as Dave splayed his fingers out wide and flattened his palm, trying to feel as much as he could in that brief bit of time he dared.

     “Having fun, Dave?” Ambrose said quietly, kissing his forehead when he lifted his chin to glance up. “Don't worry. I won't bother you in the tub. Would you like me to get a change of clothes for you? Slippers? Some kind of wrap?” The cookies were an absolute bust at this point, but the evening could be salvaged. Perhaps he'd even make some tea for them to wind down with. “Well. Unless you're wanting me to remain here and scrub your back for you.”

     “No, no, I've got it, a towel is fine for me,” Dave said, yanking his hand back as if shocked. There was more to say, but he hesitated, only getting it out when Ambrose reached the door to the hallway, about to leave. “...Were you serious earlier? About my eyes being lit up?” 

     Ambrose shrugged, shoulders moving and rounding, providing a delicious side view. “Yes. And I've no doubt you were serious about mine as well, though I'm a bit puzzled about that: I wasn't working any magic, if I wanted the cookies to keep being baked I'd have still had to order certain measurements into the bowl. Or I'd have floated it far more neatly, and never dangled blades anywhere near my own back, let alone anywhere near  _ you _ .”

     Dave made an uncertain sound, but nodded and went to get more water for the tub, wanting to fill it a bit higher while it was getting warmer, thinking which bottles he wanted to open to add pinches and drizzles in as enhancements. If Ambrose hadn't done it and they  _ both  _ had some kind of hand in it without knowing, was that a sign things were dangerous between them? What if something else happened? Would things catch fire quickly, as he felt his skin and blood was burning under the mage's touch? Would storms rain upon them, ruin the library?

     “I'll be right back to grab your soiled clothes,” Ambrose warned. “But I won't stay long. Leave your things by the door, I'll bother you less that way. Oh, and if you could: no gardenia oils tonight, I'm not feeling it.”

     The water was still steadily heating, the tub making gentle strained pronging sounds as the metal expanded and shifted from the heat of the stoked fire beneath it, amplified by the water it held. Dave added a single drizzle of pink liquid before capping the bottle and heading for the door swift as a deer, stalking after Ambrose the second he realized his husband wasn't just going to drop his things off near the clothes bucket, but was heading down the hall that held the doorway to his room. He hung back far enough to not be immediately detected as the mage lifted a hand and coaxed the door out of hiding by tracing it, handle glowing softly as it too was forming. Dave rushed forward and dropped down to his knees for a stealthy slide as Ambrose entered without glancing behind him, leaving the door to slowly close itself.

     Before he could stop himself, Dave stuck his foot out and let the door gently bounce against it so it remained  open. He didn't dare enter, but he sure as fuck could look.

     Though his time viewing the mage’s room would prove to be far too brief, the little he was to see quickly made the space soar through the ranks on Dave’s list of forced investigatory desires. While his own room was comfortable and soft, inviting as a nest, Ambrose's seemed to be full of sharp angles and oddities. Books bound in leather were tied shut on shelves alongside tightly closed jars and containers of alchemy ingredients, some that looked quite rare. Dave was certain he saw shimmering rainbow scales in one jar. The shelves were stuffed full of intricate looking items, charms, poppets, models and trailing vines and strings and cords. The walls, though, were even stranger.

     Though a rich, vibrant turquoise painted with what Dave would have sworn was gold etchings, they were gashed with deep scratches in irregular patterns. His bed, more than twice the size of Dave's own, also seemed to be mostly destroyed. Clothing littered the floor along with papers, grass, and some kind of a dark sludge. Dave leaned in and peered further into the room, taking in the strange smell of flowers and burnt wood, something unpleasant clinging to the back of his sinuses that made him feel a hint of panic. He saw his own face in a section of heavily broken mirror, a few open, slashed wooden chests, and what looked like another hallway.

     He crept forward ever so slightly again to see clearer down the hallway, heart in his throat. It was wrong to be in here. It was bad to be in here, Ambrose had told him he wanted it private, wanted it secret, and yet here he was disobeying the only thing he'd been told not to do. Dave couldn't help it! Not at all, the curiosity was driving him crazy!

     The first peek was right: a hallway that Dave couldn't account for from the outside of the home was inside of Ambrose's room holding several doors of its own, each door a different color and firmly closed. ...Mostly. The one on the end appeared to be opening up.

     Panicked, Dave turned and bolted back out of the room, not bothering to close the door after him, instead letting it softly close and bounce back when the latch didn't catch. He stripped as he scrambled at top speed back to the bathroom, ditching his shirt and pants and underwear in a pile by the door before sliding into the tub and making himself lean back. The water was very hot now thanks to the fire, and only getting hotter as he'd forgotten to put out the flame or damper it at all, but the oils were welcoming and the heart hammering in his chest found solace under the pressure of sweet smelling water. He hurriedly dunked his head and scratched at his hair to loosen whatever he could, planning on going after it again with some proper soap.

     When he rose back up, Ambrose was standing in the bathroom and watching him quietly, a silent specter that made Dave holler in surprise, splashing water over the raised edge of the tub, causing the fire below to angrily hiss and shoot steam. He held clothing in his arm in a bundle, which he gently tossed to the side.

     “Well. That's one way of lowering the flame I suppose,” the man chuckled, crouching down to pick up Dave's soiled clothing to drape over his left forearm neatly. “Would you like me to put it out for you? Get some more cold water to even it out..? You'll cook at this rate.”

     He didn't know. Ambrose didn't know. Somehow, some way, he didn't know. Dave felt like he was going to vomit, nerves a tangled wreck even though the way seemed clear. He'd gotten away with it..!

     “Oh. Cold water, if you could? I don't want it in the tub though, not yet. I just want to dunk the washrag in it, for my head,” Dave said with the cheekiest grin he could manage, stomach giving another icy lurch in warning.

     “Won't fall asleep in there, right? You don't have your nose in a book, you should be safe.” He padded over to fill the pail with chill water, giving another pleasant show of his back. “You'll get pretty sick if you wait too long to cool down. ...I don't think I'll be making those cookies after all,” Ambrose admitted. “I'll see what other treat I can make the kitchen make instead, if it's done scouring itself to death for me.”

     “No rush, it's not like I'll starve,” Dave said. “I'll even help with laundry if you want.”

     “Oh, no need. I'll get that going shortly. I've just the thing to get all the stains out, a special blend. I know you enjoyed that outfit.”

     “It was nice, I guess.”

     “Well, I know  _ I  _ enjoyed  _ my  _ clothes and I don't want them ruined forever,” Ambrose chuckled. “I think tonight isn't a library night for me. Some extra chores, some tea, some extra time with you. ...Would you be interested in sharing a bed tonight?”

     “Yours or mine?” Dave said reflexively, though the sudden intake of breath, he feared, was a dead giveaway.

     “Oh, ha ha, very funny, you know you're still not allowed in my room. Yours, if you'll have me. I promise to be courteous, but I'd enjoy holding you. I'm not busy tonight.”

     “...Someday, right?” he said hopefully, trying to follow the same pattern as before. Guilt was already starting to eat him alive, especially with how Ambrose was looking at him like the fondest treasure in the world.

     “Yes. Someday. But not today.”

     “Why the sudden offer? You've never stayed the night before, and even in the library I wake up in my room again every morning with you having tucked me in and left.” Dave reached into the pail with his wash rag to dunk it a few times till it was drenched with chilly water, flattening it out on his head with a soft sigh. Everything was good again, the day was saved.

     “As I said: I'm not busy tonight. I've no duties to tend to, no jobs to work on. And after earlier, it would be nice to spend as much time as I can with you.”

     Dave lifted a foot out of the water and found the far end of the tub before sliding down low again, lifting his other leg and crossing the ankles lazily.

     “Mm... I wouldn't mind you staying, no. Is courtesy all you'll be doing, after earlier?”

     “For now? Yes,” Ambrose said, smile in his bright eyes. “Part of that courtesy is laundry, however. Pardon, I'm going to get on that till the tub is open again. Take your time, just reheat it if it gets cold after you're out.”

     Dave nodded and sighed again softly, boneless, heart beginning to hammer again under the water as the mage drifted away and shut the door behind himself. ..Maybe he could allow himself just the briefest of releases to get rid of the energy built up from all that was happening. The time on the counter, the near catch in the hallway, and the promise of spending the night with his husband for the first time in his own room was a lot to digest. Eyes to the door, Dave slid his hand downwards.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

     Dave's magic appearing so strongly and suddenly wasn't entirely unanticipated. Ambrose knew it was going to come. Dave had promise, he had a spark, he was a brilliant learner when he set his mind to it, and all he really needed was a little nudge in the right direction. What he hadn't anticipated was the fact that  _ apparently _ his little love was a sponge for more than just information. During the kiss, his own power had been activated without his awareness, helping to fuel and float things around so effortlessly without direction. That magic was uncontrolled, and therefore dangerous. Risky. It had only been small items this time, bowls and utensils (the knife had been a scare all in itself) and thankfully nothing terrible had happened when the magic was cut off from its source. No explosions, no fire, no launching them through the ceiling and out into the yard in several pieces.

     This time at least.

     Ambrose sat on a low stool swishing around clothing in cool water to coax the dregs off, heating more water for proper scrubbing that a spell could handle, watching the trails his fingers left behind on the surface of some of the cloth. Dave's trousers, for instance, had marks on the knees where the powder had been scraped away by contact with the floor in the hall outside his room. It had been easy to nudge the subtle marks with his foot and get rid of them, pretend he hadn't seen them, that he hadn't seen Dave's retreating back duck into the bathroom. As far as he could tell, Dave hadn't touched anything dangerous in his room, hadn't seen too much.

     ...Oh who was he kidding. Seeing  **_anything_ ** in there had been too much. What could he even hope to explain? What would he do when Dave got curious again, started to figure out how the spells worked to make the doors function? Worse yet, what would he do if Dave learned how to draw doors too without him there to guide him? Not everything someone could open was good, much of it was possible to open but shouldn't be touched. Many things in the world did not need to be seen, especially by someone like Dave, whether Dave liked that or not. It was only a matter of time before the risks built up.

     There was nothing for it, then. He'd need to teach Dave proper grounding quickly; if not for their own safety, then for the house's integrity. Uncontrolled magic could be destructive, even deadly. Add in the complication of Dave being able to tap into power when they were kissing, and things got even riskier.

     In no way was not kissing his husband an option, nor was not eventually pleasuring him when the summons came. Ambrose wanted only good for Dave, only brightness and light and happiness. Fate had delivered his love, and he would protect and watch his love change from a fresh bud to the most vibrant flower in the field. Perhaps he could disguise the interlude with some practical practice for himself as well, build up a resistance to the coaxing of power without his awareness, help to leash Dave's magic from the outside till he could hold the leash himself.

     He heard gentle splashing in the bathroom, water shifting around and being poured, signs of an enthusiastic scrubbing no doubt. Dave might be finishing up soon, leaving the space open for Ambrose to take his turn. The mage stood to fetch the cake of laundry soap with its sharp little grater beside it, turning the sharp edged device in his hand to avoid cutting himself before shaving off fragile fluffs of soap on top of the wet clothing in a small, snowy mound. He poured the heated water over the soap, watching the slivers melt away into sweet smelling nothing, and had been about ready to sit back down and give the laundry some hand washing when he heard the bathroom door open.

     Steam rushed out and flooded the ceiling of the hallway in billowing clouds that rose like dragon's breath, delicate-looking tendrils following Dave, curling after every step, lasting well past when Dave stepped into the laundry area. Ambrose eyed the steam, wondering how the wisps lasted so long, but said nothing.

     “Good bath?”

     “Excellent,” Dave promised. “Your turn, though. I did as you asked and got it heated again, but it was already still plenty warm.”

     “Let it go too long again..? There was cool water right there, you know.”

     “Yeah, yeah, I know, but it's not the same at all,” Dave said. “Cooling it down too much just means sitting there in lukewarm water for longer. It has to be a HOT bath to be good!”

     “How do you plan to survive the summer with that attitude and not smell? It's not miserable here, but it still gets quite warm when it wants to.”

     “That'd just be like at home: a stream, or cold water from the basin. Swimming and bathing is the same if you chuck soap at the right places.”

     Ambrose grinned and dusted his hands off to get rid of soap residue before gesturing at the clothes, waiting till they lifted and began to scrub against the ridged metal board in a wad of expanding soap bubbles. He reached out to coax Dave closer, giving him a tight hug, a fond kiss to the temple, to the cheek.

     “You're going to be warm for a while, it's quite cozy. I'm going to take my turn now, but please, no magic practice while I'm gone. No reading new volumes. Try to stick to, say, a novel or something instead. Some poetry,” Ambrose urged. “We need to have a discussion about what happened, and how to prevent it from happening in the future.”

     “What? I thought you liked that!” Dave said suddenly, whipping his head around hard enough that it bashed the underside of Ambrose's chin, making his jaw jerk and his teeth clack uncomfortably.

     “The kissing?” asked the mage, releasing his hug to rub at his jaws and the fullness of his cheeks gingerly. “I enjoyed that very much, every inch of it! It was the floating knife and destroying half that section of the kitchen with mess and realizing you were able to override my own control without my knowing to help propel things that I'm not as comfortable with. You've blooming magic, Dave, I don't want that to run wild and break down walls if we can avoid it. Remember my warning before, about how magic worked? The light? The risks? Magic needs guidance, it must never run entirely free, lest it take and take and take till there's nothing left to be taken, or lest it explode and take you with its remnants. That is asking for disaster.”

     “...Oh,” Dave mumbled, seeming to understand, but sulking all the same. “Is it going to hurt?”

     “Why would teaching you something  _ hu _ -? No. You know what? Never mind. Don't worry too much on it, everything should be just fine. We're just going to talk, and find different ways to help the magic be grounded before you read more about how spells work and start hitting advanced topics. It's no longer just simple curiosity and learning,” Ambrose said. “You've awakened something very potent.”

     Dave's expression was worried anyway, drawn and tight as a noose. “You don't look... very happy about it,” he noted. “About any of it.”

     “I'm very happy. I'm just concerned about risks, and about you getting hurt,” Ambrose said softly. “You would give me no greater pleasure in life than standing at my side as another powerful mage, alight with magic, the point of adoration and envy of anyone who looked upon you. Aside from the magic portion, I'm certain the rest already applies. Are you looking forward to Spring?”

     “What happens during Spring?” Dave asked, trying not to fret too badly. “I'm used to working the fields and tending to animals, but this place isn't... well. It's not the home I'm used to by any stretch. What will I be needing to do?”

     “Help in the garden,” Ambrose hummed. “Help with animals, though on a much easier scale than you were used to. Things can be automated to a degree with magic here, and I've other systems in place to assist. Though, I'd hoped come Spring that you and I could travel a bit.”

     “How far out?”

     “To the cities,” he said. “I want to show you the ocean, and castles perched within the edges of mountains.”

     “I've... never seen either of those things,” Dave mumbled in awe. “Not even in books. I've heard them in stories, though.”

     “It won't be too hard to get there, though we'd need to take care we blend in decently enough as we come and go,” the mage added. He would always stick out no matter where he went to a degree, it came with the territory. Dressed down much as he could, Ambrose would continue to stick out, othered by the vague changes his magic held within him. No doubt Dave would as well, controlled magic or not.

     ...Well. That and they were just a very handsome couple as far as he was concerned.

     “The cities,” breathed Dave softly, looking very distant all at once. “...We really can?”

     “Why wouldn't we be able to?”

     “We're so isolated out here.”

     Ambrose blinked at him before laughing, muffling himself only when Dave pulled back to glower at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I- hahaha. I'm sorry, Dave, I'm sorry! Don't you remember how I  _ brought  _ you here? I've doors to every place I've traveled before, and some that I've never even opened yet. The door to your village just happens to be one of the more regularly traveled ones for trade and, till now, the matchmaker. We'd be taking a door there, and drawing our way home. The only time we need to travel the long way would be for sight seeing, the thrill of adventure and to blend in while keeping secrets.”

     “And we're doing that in Spring?”

     “Yes. It would be lovely right now as well in some of those places, but-”

     “Can we go tomorrow?” interrupted Dave, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment. “Make a day of it?”

     “BUT,” continued Ambrose louder, “we can't right now. You're showing magic and you're tapping mine, you're a risk. It would be irresponsible to let you loose in a city right now.”

     Dave stopped bouncing, wilting where he stood with a sigh. “Why'd you get me all excited...”

     “You got yourself excited, don't try to pin this on me. I wanted to give you something to look forward to,” Ambrose explained, letting Dave wander further away to the opposite side of the laundry, only to be startled when the water was wrung out of the cloth, suds disappearing before the cloth was dropped into the rinsing tub and worked around with quick, jerky movements as if by unseen hands. “If we work now, if you're brave and can contain and hone what you have now, we can set out at first thaw to celebrate.”

     “Celebrate?” Dave crouched by the rinsing tub and hugged his knees, returning to his farm boy roots the longer he rested on the balls of his feet. “What, have a party?”

     “Yes and no.”

     How much to tell and how much to hold close to his chest? Ambrose walked away from the laundry and Dave at a slow, steady pace. Dave could hear the soft creak of leather and cloth as he undid the ties of his trousers once more, leaning to peek around the corner before following, not rising from his crouch immediately as he took a moment to stretch his legs. All those days of focusing only on books were doing a terrible number on his body, is the delicious, slightly painful stretch was any indication of how much he'd been neglecting them.

     Ambrose let his loosened trousers inch downward on his hips, catching along the bone and their own weight over his thighs. Dave could see the gentle dip of his spine, the top edge of his ass, and found himself walking a little faster to catch up as his husband slowed and turned at the bathroom door to speak to him again.

     “Dave, if you can manage to control yourself and handle grounding as I teach it to you, then not only will I wine and dine you at these locations however you please, but I would be able to kiss you there. As well, if you manage VERY good control, I can take you places normal humans can only imagine and let you feast your eyes while I kiss you in more unconventional places.”

     Throat suddenly gone very dry, Dave could only go still and swallow, trying to wet his lips.

     “...Y'don't say.”

     “I do. Go make some tea if you'd like, I won't be long,” Ambrose said, breaking the least magical spell he'd conjured up by soundly closing the bathroom door behind himself.

     Dave couldn't leave. Not yet, no, not like this. There was no urge to touch himself this time, Dave had already tended that dire need earlier, but the urge to follow was strong. The urge to touch, to... to taste, to savor, to see more of what those infernal trousers blocked from his increasingly curious view was maddening. Ambrose had said he would stay the night with him that night, that he'd remain there the entire evening. ...Would he be averse to, perhaps, a few curious touches..?

  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

     The remainder of the day and evening passed pleasantly, though there was no sign of the beginning of Ambrose's lessons and Dave's fingers were twitching with the urge to pick up a more advanced book again. He'd slipped back to the library while Ambrose bathed (after taking a good long peek at the flattened space of wall that he knew contained the door to the mage's room previously) and browsed the shelves, stopping his hungry eyes whenever they got too invested in titles he knew would be a bad idea.

     Eventually he'd spotted one in another section of well worn books, presented and preserved carefully as any of the other volumes, though showing obvious signs of having been read well thanks to small marks where the hands of another had rested upon the creamy pages to hold it. It wasn't quite like anything Dave had ever read before in his life, though it captured his imagination almost immediately.

     It rang of a fairy tale or a myth, yet also held a love story, a tale of devotion so strong it passed the boundaries of mortal and immortal. An epic quest, monsters, drama, the fate of the entire world resting in the hands of one small human? Those were things Dave could get behind quickly and was a fan of! Adventure sang to him, capturing the heart that had long relegated itself to field and farm work for the rest of his life before this new world of mages and magic had opened up like a particularly fragrant flower. Being pined over by not one, but  _ two  _ immortals however? Rang a little hokey to him, even if the devotion was simple to see. He devoured the first quarter of the book in the library before even going to make something to drink, boiling water for tea and perching on the counter that had been a mess earlier. A few objects shifted around him as he read, lifting and falling or jittering awkwardly in place, but he paid them no mind; the kitchen was a busy place, there was no accounting for just what might be normal in this house.

     Ambrose appearing with wet hair, clean dark trousers, doe skin slippers and a soft white shirt whose V neck dipped down low when the ties weren't secured very closely, was a compelling sight. He walked slowly, took his time, yet still made a beeline for Dave to kiss at his forehead and temple soon as he could reach. The frantic kisses from earlier didn't repeat, but he had kissed and touched gently before separating to do the steeping for their drinks and to make the kitchen focus on making dinner.

     When meat sizzled in the pan and cheese was bubbling away hot and molten near an edge of flame, the mage took a moment to appreciate just what Dave was reading. ..Oh, he knew that book, nearly cover to cover in fact. A brief peek at the pages and he knew precisely what was coming up next in his little husband's reading. Good learning opportunity! Ambrose turned the meat in the pan and added some red wine in, splashing freshly added onions that had been chopping themselves nearby and newly dropped into place, then quickly turned around to watch Dave read.

     His cheeks went pink and his expression tightened, trying desperately to not give away his thoughts. A loaf of bread lifted behind him, and after a turn of the page, it shot about four feet to the right and dropped towards the floor. Ambrose caught it, set it back up on another counter, and went back to watching, wondering what else he might need to intercept.

     Fire. Fire was what he needed to intercept. Not just fire from the already active stove, Ambrose personally fighting that one down with magic to avoid burning their food, but also from the live fire warming the home, which took some manual stifling to soothe down to a less uncomfortable height. No, if those had been the only two flames to watch out for it would have been soothing. Instead, Dave manifested fire beside himself on the counter, starting first as two small flickers of soft blue, and then expanding out to a wider, more detailed expanse. He bit his lip and the fire grew more intense, finally putting off smoke.

     “Dave?”

     “Yes!” he said, slamming the book shut and looking up with a startled expression, brows up and eyes wide and surprised. Ambrose was directly in his face, hands on either side of his hips just as they had been earlier when they tried to make cookies. He smelled burning, felt heat, but didn't have time to register a source for any of it as his husband leaned forward and pressed their lips together soundly. They came up for air to the smell of burnt wood and the taste of the mage's tea on Dave's lips, Ambrose's hands unmoved from the countertop.

     “..Feel better?”

     “I-. Yes? I felt fine before though,” he said quietly. “Uh. What's burning?”

     Ambrose lifted his hands and pulled away from Dave's front, revealing the burnt outline of his hands, the deep, angry looking crack in the center where the wood had split even further down at least a quarter inch. Dave flinched back to look at either side of himself before launching upright, book tight to his stomach.

     “Why in the world did you burn the counter! And so close to my  _ legs _ ! That isn't going to come out, the wood's ruined now.”

     “I didn't burn the counter, you did. If I hadn't smothered it down and guided it you probably would have taken half the kitchen with little flickers.”

     Dave stamped his foot. “I didn't burn  _ anything _ , you did that. I was reading!”

     “And getting distracted and aroused, and your magic began to respond to it,” Ambrose said. “It happens. It's normal. I'll just need to be more cautious till you get the leash in place for your magic, nip little fires and problems in the bud. You flung bread too, before the fire,” he added as he pointed over to the loaf in its new location.”

     There was no stamping foot this time, just confusion, and then the first flicker of fear in his red eyes.

     “...I. ...I, uh. But. ..But I wasn't..”

     “As I said: it's normal. But this is why we're going to be grounding,” Ambrose promised. “Set your book aside for now if you would, and set the table for us? Feel free to grab whatever else you'd like to drink, too. The food is just about done.”

     They ate in near silence, Dave unable to sit still, apparently concerned he'd be starting random fires with reckless abandon with no conscious will, continually looking up and around. Ambrose spoke up once in a while to ask for something to be passed over, or to ask questions about the book or if other books had caught Dave's eye yet.

     Dave wished he'd not questioned why Ambrose had kissed him. Maybe this was a mistake. What had he done?? Why had he invited this on himself, and why was Ambrose so calm? He was starting fires!! FIRES! If this had happened back home, nothing would have put out the blaze in time and half the house would have gone up like a torch in minutes. No, not just HIS home, the entire village may have caught if the flames had reached the field.

     He felt dangerous. He felt uncontrolled. He felt.. Ambrose's foot against his calf, stroking gently till he looked up from his now empty plate with wide, sad eyes.

     “Now.. That's not the face I'd hoped for. Come. We'll have an early night,” Ambrose said, retracting his foot so he could stand up easier, stretching his long arms up over his head, back popping a few times. Dave could see that his fingers and palms looked overly pink, damaged by heat but not wholly burnt. Guilt strangled him.

     “I'm not tired.”

     “You don't need to be yet, I just think we'd do better in your room to have more of the grounding discussion, now that more base needs are completed. Food, drinks, we're both clean, there is no more danger or risks. This is a much better starting point for such an important lesson, don't you think?” he asked, waiting till Dave hesitantly accepted his hand before beginning the walk to the hallway. “And if you fall asleep after then all the better: won't have to drag you anywhere if you're already in the space meant for sleeping. You don't often kick in your sleep, but you drool sometimes. Did you know that?”

     “Ambrose,  **_please_ ** ,” Dave whined softly, looking scandalized.

     “Well you do,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice, slowing to let Dave lead. The younger man confidently surged ahead and popped his door open, waiting for Ambrose to raise the lighting up as he wished before he turned down his covers and crawled in, tucking himself in and resting dead center with his arms folded over his abdomen.

     The man smirked and leaned over, planting his hands flat on the mattress. “No room for me?”

     “You're teaching, so I need to pay attention, right?”

     Lifting the edge of the blanket, Ambrose flapped it till Dave released the pressure from his arms, and slid in beside him. There was a moment of resistance, uncertainty, and he hung back ready to vacate the mattress if Dave demanded it. When the smaller blonde reached for him welcomingly, he slipped even closer and settled back against the cushions as Dave cuddled himself good and close, large hands more than happy to stroke along Dave's hips and sides and shoulders as he settled down and relaxed. The fact he could curl his body and kiss the backs of his shoulders while spooning him like this was a fabulous addition that he was surprised hadn't factored into his original plans when laying down in this way.

     He scooped Dave up with one arm, dragging him closer against his own chest protectively.

     “So. Lessons. Earlier, there had been a book catching your interest and you set fires without meaning to,” Ambrose said, so blunt that it stung at Dave's feelings like lemon juice. One hand stroked loosely at Dave's stomach and chest, and kissed near his ear. “Did you feel anything when you were reading that felt different?”

     “...I mean.. Yes, but, uh. It. ...It wasn't  _ magic _ I don't think,” Dave said. “Unless tenting my trousers is magic,” he added with a grimace. How embarrassing, he was a grown man now, he should be past things like that.

     Ambrose's hand dipped down lower and stroked at Dave's thigh, slow and steady how he knew he liked it, teasing with his fingertips at going further back at an angle towards his taint. He was still over Dave's clothes, and though he wanted to focus only on pleasing Dave and seeing how he could make him feel amazing, the lesson needed to get underway first.

     “You've gotten like that before without lighting fires. What about earlier, when the mess happened in the kitchen. Did you feel anything different? Try to think for me.”

     Dave instinctively parted his knees in welcome and gave his hips a wiggle, trying to catch the mage's fingers in places other than where he was strictly aiming.

     “You're making it harder to think, y'know..”

     “Good. Try harder,” Ambrose insisted, squeezing the inside of Dave's thigh before beginning to knead it steadily, nipping his earlobe when he hissed air between his teeth.

     Had he felt anything different? Nothing really stuck out aside from lust when he tried to look back. “I uhhhhhh. I felt warm,” he said.

     “Sounds about standard,” Ambrose said, shuffling the blanket down so Dave could look down and see his hands moving on him. “What else?”

     “Pr-...Pressure in my stomach,” Dave said, watching Ambrose delicately undo his trousers.

     “Mhmm? Anything else?” he asked, folding the cloth back and down enough to expose the top of Dave's pubic hair, the thin diamond head leading down to his groin, soft beneath his fingertips.

     Dave's head was throbbing, pulse hammering in his ears. He was feeling what he was saying, unable to separate words from experiences in the slightest anymore.

     “I-I....” Ambrose's hand slid lower, letting him feel the first gentle stroke of the pads of his fingers against the root of his cock, careful, ready to pull back if Dave said no at any point. A 'No' was the furthest thing from Dave's mind right then. “I feel weightless. Like. Like bubbles,” Dave stammered, toes curling as he felt the mage's hand stroke over him gently, feeling his shape, feeling his edges, feeling the weight of his testicles along with the whole as if appraising them.

     A few items in the room shifted suddenly, all knocked to the left by an inch and a half as if by highly organized unseen hands. He tried to keep focused, wanted to look around in case a fire turned up again, the feeling felt familiar by now. How could he stop a fire like this? What if it wasn't even a fire, what if something even worse happened? Ambrose's explanations of magic had been astounding but terrifying, and here he was working it without meaning to! Anything could happen!

     Dave clenched his eyes shut and rocked his hips with a gasp when Ambrose curled his fingers and gently stroked at him, motions he'd done to himself many times yet unfamiliar with a new hand.

     Fire? What fire.

     “Feeling that weightless feeling, those 'bubbles', the pressure in your stomach? Those can be signs of magic becoming active, or at least being stored,” Ambrose whispered near his ear. “You feel something similar close to an orgasm, that intense pressure, but with those you're expelling something without needing to think. With magic, you need to ground that feeling. There aren't always opportunities to expel magic willy nilly safely, especially so new to magic and with such a low stamina for casting.”

     “H-how do I do  _ that _ ?” Dave asked, forcing his eyes open again when he heard something else move nearby. He felt weightless again, the pressure coiling and twisting in his abdomen like angry snakes as Ambrose continued to steadily stroke him. The mage's free hand had gone up beneath his shirt to feel his chest, to stroke over a hardening nipple and roll it between his fingertips while the rest of his forearm applied pressure to keep him close, breath heavy and hot in his ear between the calm, clear words of the lesson. The room was different.

     ..No, the room was the same as before, same as ever, but the vantage had changed. Instead of resting on his bedding, safe against Ambrose's body as he twisted and twitched, he was resting against Ambrose and otherwise apparently free floating. The cushions were moving away towards the other walls, knocking small things over as they hit them, same as had happened in the kitchen earlier. Clothing, trinkets, decorations were all rising. Ambrose didn't say a word about any of it, just continued to move his hand and breathe softly by his ear.

     Dave swallowed down his anxiety, brows furrowed.

     “Ambrose, I'm scared,” he gasped. He didn't want his husband to stop touching him, he didn't want to stop hearing his voice, but at this height a fall could be dangerous. “You don't let us fall, right?”

     “I'd rather die than let you get hurt,” Ambrose promised him, speeding up his fist's movements and holding Dave tighter to his torso, legs squeezing at his narrow hips to help hold him in place instead of letting him dangle in case of contact with more loose items. There was no way for him to keep track of everything in the room, but at the very least he'd been able to track down the sensation of Dave accessing his magic.

     No, not accessing, that was far too simple of a word. It was as if Dave had approached a very compressed chest of magic and flung it open while dangling it upside down. For not knowing as much about magic as Ambrose had at his age, Dave did have a natural knack for hunting down power sources and reaching right for their heart for what he instinctively knew he needed. That was an innate talent that set him apart from others, a skill that would be useful in the future, but it held some obvious dangers. He would need to take great care to avoid having Dave's gifts being known by others, once they left the safety of the home...

     Dave's body was tensing up beneath his touch, a spring coiling ever tighter, muscles quaking from the strain. His breathing came in labored gasps, mind already going white at the edges. He hoped Ambrose would be interested in doing this more often in the future, maybe expand out into a repertoire even. Or if he'd let Dave return the favor, perhaps, let him have a feel as well. Dave’s thoughts jumbled together into a mash of sensation and want.

     “That feeling is what you need to watch for, Dave,” Ambrose whispered, planting the thought like a seed, edging it into Dave's subconscious. “When you feel those things, when you feel that pull, keep a watch on it. If you feel the pressure and the floating and the bubbles while you feel a pull, it means you need to stop and ground yourself. Do other things. Or expel with a simple spell I'll teach you tomorrow. Don't let it run free, not yet.”

     “ _ But it feels too good _ ...!”

     “There's ways to make it feel better without making the house explode or killing your partner,” Ambrose promised. He felt Dave tense in his grasp, on the edge of spilling at last. That had made an impression on him it seemed, though the mage wished there had been a gentler way to get that point across.

     “Ambrose,” Dave said worriedly, letting his head sag as he felt the pressure reach the breaking point.

     “I've got you, Dave. It's safe right now. You can let go, nothing bad will happen. Everything is okay,” he promised as he kissed the side of Dave's neck, gently sucking at a tender point till it stung, mind racing with how the little bruises would look the next morning against his mussed tangle of bedhead.

     Dave relaxed and tensed a few more times as if he had a cramp before groaning and releasing into Ambrose's patient fist which continued to move at a gentler pace to coax him through every second of his orgasm. It was a tiring feat the more things really stacked up. All at the same time the mage was keeping his hand’s pace calm and steady, keeping himself firmly denied, keeping them safely floating, and tamping down what he was fairly sure would have been more blazes in at least two points in the room. Were he a lesser mage this would have been outright dangerous to even consider.

     Gently, slowly, the items that had taken flight earlier began to come back down to the ground. It was a mess, a tornado's leavings instead of the fairly tidy space it had been prior to Ambrose getting handsy. At least Ambrose had landed with Dave on the bed with little more than a soft creak of complaint from bed frame as it accepted their suddenly-there-again combined weight. He waited till Dave's body had gone limp before he released his dick and used his clean hand to turn his head, kissing him soundly, taking his sweet time with it.

     His husband was dazed, sweetly warm, and now very tired. The point had been made, though, and the follow up lessons could be made with more conventional means now that they both knew what the previous spark point had been. Progress could be made for day to day life and duties, for other kinds of advanced magic practice. Backup plans for how to react when different emotions affected that growing store of magic in different ways as Dave interacted with the world and continued to grow and change as a person. As a mage.

     Ambrose kissed his lips again, then his cheeks tenderly. He separated from Dave only to remove the mess from his hand and to get a cloth wet, carefully cleaning his husband as if he were tending a shrine on a holy day. When he returned to climb into the warm bed, prepared to spend the night as he'd promised to, Dave quickly turned around and clung tightly to him, not content to fall asleep as the little spoon when he could instead face the man who had just done such an amazing thing to him and bury his face against the warm sweetness of his neck.

     They fell asleep in a warm tangle of limbs, the last hanging words in the air from Dave being a soft, albeit muffled, “I love you, Ambrose.”

     “...I love you too, Dave.”

 


End file.
